


Catch Me

by higayimdad



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Confessions, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Insecurity, Jisung is clumsy, Kissing, M/M, Mention of blood, Minho is bad at emotions, One-Sided Attraction, Rejection, Side Seungmin/Jeongin, at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27070984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/higayimdad/pseuds/higayimdad
Summary: Jisung is clumsy as few, he rarely ties his shoelaces and often wakes up with the question "where did this bruise come from?" floating around his head.One day he falls down the stairs, expecting to meet the very familiar cold floor. Only for a pair of hands to catch him, only for someone- Minho to ask him softly if he's alright.Jisung falls in love, but Minho is scared and confused. There was nothing that terrified him as much as love did.Neither was there anything as addicting as it.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 71
Kudos: 327
Collections: Minsung





	1. My Shoes Are Untied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small note to the reader, I have altered the ages slightly aha ha. basically, Minho, Chan, and Changbin - seniors. Seungmin, Jisung, Felix, and Hyunjin - juniors. Jeongin - sophomore.

_ “Ah my shoes are untied.”  _

Jisung stared at his feet for what was probably longer than necessary. It was certainly longer than what was safe. It was a miracle no one had bumped into him yet. 

He wore big shoes, large insoles with even larger platforms. If it weren’t for them all of his friends would probably tower him. Well more than they already did at least, it was embarrassing, Jisung thought. He wondered what genes he lost, both his parents were taller than average, and his brother had grown past all three of them, by a margin. Jisung probably stopped growing in 8th grade. 

His height was just the cherry on top of the mountain of fragile eggshells he called insecurities. He wasn’t very social, not compared to his friends. He wasn’t attractive, not compared to his friends. He wasn’t particularly smart, not compared to his friends. He wasn’t a lot of things, especially not compared to his friends. 

Even more depressing, he wasn’t all that much, compared to anyone. 

That’s why he was loud and goofy, maybe people would find him funnier like that. It was why he always loudly announced he didn’t put an ounce of effort into his looks, people would just think he was so  _ effortlessly  _ beautiful. Though masked behind a white lie to make himself feel better about spending half his mornings in front of his mirror. 

“ _ Hah I didn’t even try, I don’t even care about my grades."  _ H e said, pretending the throbbing headache wasn’t from studying most of the night, wasn’t from the shame, wasn’t from the disappointment. 

His shoes were untied. 

The bulky large black shoes, probably too expensive considering his minimum wage, probably too big on his feet. 

_ “I’ll tie them when I sit down later.”  _ He thought. It would be embarrassing to stop in the middle of the hallway right?  _ “It will be fine.”  _ He repeated. 

It’s fine. He always said. Most things were always just  _ fine _ . 

Jisung was on the last step of the stairs, he could not only see the door to the cafeteria and two of his friends in the distance, but someone called out for him from behind. 

“Jisung!” 

He turned around, saw Felix on top of the stairs, smile wide and eyes practically closed. The blond hair looked natural, more natural than what it did when Jisung bleached his last year. He was pretty, Jisung not very compared to him. 

His shoes were untied. 

The shoelaces were long, Jisung couldn’t recall if they always had been. Or if they were just particularly long today,  _ just because.  _

One tied itself around his own ankle, and the other tossed on and around until it got caught in between the tile floor and the  _ big _ bulky black shoes. He only noticed it when he felt himself falling from the very last step of the stairs. 

It probably wouldn’t be far to the floor once he fell. It was certainly not the first time he would fall. He knew it would ache in his knees, he would probably catch himself.

Jisung thoroughly hated this part of himself, for being so  _ fucking  _ clumsy. He wasn’t sure why, nor if he had always been. But just the fact that this wasn’t the first time he was falling in these stairs, just the fact that it wouldn’t be the first time he would wake up tomorrow with purple bruises all over his knees. Just the fact that pure embarrassment that still crawled underneath his skin from the  _ last time.  _

The clumsiness was another thing he loved  _ hated  _ to joke about.  _ “Oh haha! You know me! So clumsy!”  _

So clumsy it was no longer a fun quirk, so clumsy it was embarrassing. 

He prepared for the fall. Prepared for the cold hard floor. 

Jisung had never expected something other than his own hands catching him. Never someone else’s, never had he expected someone  _ else  _ to catch him.

The one who did was so obviously caught off guard, of course, not many expected to have a scrawny teenager falling in their way. Hands probably quicker than their line of thought, already holding  _ said _ teenager in his hold. Whose body was halfway towards the ground. 

Jisung barely recalled he fell at all, he only realized it because his ears were burning hot and his cheeks flared bright red. But the knees weren’t hurting like they did, he didn’t have to stand up in a hurried mess. No, he was still on his feet, perhaps only the slightest disheveled. 

“Are you alright?” Someone asked. No not someone. Jisung knew who he was. Lee Minho. That’s who caught him. The light brown eyes looked much darker up close. Oh god, Jisung was  _ so  _ close. 

“Yeah. yeah.” Jisung mumbled back before letting his lips form a firm line, unable to speak further. 

Jisung wanted to let go of him, jump away, run to the cafeteria and hide in the bodies of students just so that he didn’t have to bear the shame of actually falling into Minho’s arms. Lee Minho. But Jisung’s hands were gripping tight at his biceps, like they were the only things keeping him grounded. 

His cheeks were no longer red from falling nor was his heart beating because he had to bear with students staring at him on the floor. 

No, now he flared red because he was in Minho’s arms. Strong, facial features sharp but comforting, light brown eyes still looking at him, arms around his shoulders. No one else batted an eye their way, Jisung never fell, he just stumbled into Minho's hold like he belonged there. His heart was beating so fast. 

“Thank you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Jisung said, grounded  _ himself.  _ Stood up on his feet, let go of Minho. He had to take a few steps backward, make a distance between them. He was embarrassed, his face was still hot. He bowed a few times, apologized even more.

Then he left, no longer caring that Felix was just about to come down the stairs behind him. He saw Minho was about to say something, so he ran. 

Hurried along the corridor, waiting to reach his friends. 

The big black bulky shoes squeaked on the floor.

Jisung’s shoelaces were still untied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I've said in the past that I'm not a big fan of making chaptered fics, because I'm bad at keeping up with a schedule. But I'm doing this because I want to challenge myself, and also keep some pressure on myself to release stuff while still fighting my writer's block. Updates will be as often as I can, maybe not super consistent, expect around once a week. The first two will be released at the same time to give yall a feeling of the story. Alright das was it


	2. His Shoes Are Untied

_ “His shoes are still untied…”  _ Minho thought to himself, the boy disappeared as soon as he had fallen. 

Another accident bound to happen, sooner or later. But absolutely bound to happen. 

Minho huffed a bit, shaken. He looked down at his hands, they felt weird. He still held his phone in one, but they felt empty. 

He stood still below the stairs, a few students threw him nasty glances for standing in their way. One, with blond hair, tan skin and freckles came stumbling down the stairs, fortunately still on his feet. He stopped a few feet away from where Minho had caught the other one. The blond glanced Minho's way, he then hurried in the same direction as the other.

Weird. 

It was, weird.

He didn’t know if he was just supposed to go on with his day like nothing had happened. Was it a fun thing to tell his friends? 

After he had been standing frozen for longer than what felt  _ normal _ , he straightened his arms along his body and marched towards the cafeteria. Prompt steps that Minho could hear echo even over the sound of countless students, over his breathing that shouldn’t be this heavy. He pushed the doors open, a head with frizzy curls and newly bleached hair turned around and locked eyes with him. The smile was wide, and he soon waved Minho over him. Minho smiled back without thinking. Next to the blond was two others, both with deep black hair, straight over their foreheads, it seemed they were bickering in their own world. Changbin and Jeongin. He felt relieved seeing them. 

When he sat down and pulled out the small lunchbox he let out a breath, heavy and thick. It felt nice sitting with his back facing the rest of the cafeteria, he wasn’t able to see whoever fell into him. If they were there for that matter. 

Minho looked up, saw Changbin pick at his food, Jeongin next to him was telling him he was childish.  _ “Why are you not eating the mushroom?!” “I told my mom I don’t like them, she still put it in my lunch.”  _ Changbin complained, and Minho saw Jeongin fighting back the urge to smack him on the back of his head. 

Jeongin was two grades below them, he was the youngest friend Minho knew, but one could not help but think he was older. Though his face was youthful the cheekbones were so prominent, despite only being 16. His eyes were thin, the irises almost disappeared when smiling. Minho had to be honest, they were quite similar. In comparison to them, Changbin’s cheeks were full, the naturally narrow lips made them pouty, and he had only recently grown into his own face. It wasn’t uncommon for people to mistake that Changbin was younger than them all. 

Chan asked Minho something, and he answered. He didn’t recall what it was, rarely did to be honest. It was probably nothing important, at least he hoped. 

“Why did it take you so long to get here by the way? Aren’t you usually here first.” Changbin asked, pointing the chopstick at him. Minho realized he hadn’t paid attention to the conversation at all, he was unsure what he had even said up to this point. 

“Uh,” he mumbled, there was no point in lying, even if some part of him wanted to just say he was ìn the bathroom. “Some kid ran into me in the hallway. Or he, well...fell down the stairs.” 

The three pairs of eyes all looked at him. Wide and hungry for Minho to continue. 

“Not like really, he fell on the last step and I just caught him and he ran away. Nothing more.” Minho said, plain and simple. 

“Nothing...more?” Chan asked. Insinuating something. Minho wasn’t a fan of it. Breathing shouldn’t suddenly be this hard. 

Minho looked at him dead in the eyes, masking his nervous heart with a sheet of nonchalance. He huffed, closed the now empty lunchbox. 

“Nothing more, what do you take me for? He fell because he’s an idiot who doesn’t tie his shoelaces, he’s not an angel falling from the clouds.” Minho swatted at Chan, to make him drop the curious face. 

“Who was it?” Jeongin asked. 

“I don’t know. Underclassman I think. Junior?” Minho asked himself. 

Everyone around the table let out some unanimous “hm” as a way to end the conversation, nothing more. 

Minho felt empty, like he had something else to say but his mouth wasn’t working. The four eventually split up, Jeongin had class on the other side of school, the other three slowly but surely made their way towards math. At least that’s what Minho thought he had, he couldn’t really recall. 

The only thing on his mind was the dark brown hair, the face that grew red, the giant eyes staring at him from below. 

The black shoes and the untied shoelaces. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok oko k next chapter will be up,,,,sometime next week maybe idk im like halfway done with it already lol. hope yall liked this at least, and is excited to read the rest!! I am excited to write wowow!
> 
> kudos and comments always appreciated! <3


	3. It's Empty

The shoes squeaked, Jisung thought he should have gotten used to it by now. That it was just because the shoes were new, they hadn’t been worn enough. But every time it rained the shoes sounded like ear piercing shrills when he walked in the hallways, he wondered if anyone else noticed. They must have, but Hyunjin was awfully quiet about it. Jisung was sure he would have pointed it out by now. 

The squeaks may have been annoying, but he was able to push the sounds far back in his mind, so much, they were like nothing but a mere mosquito. 

He and Seungmin were on their way throughout the hallways, lockers  _ too  _ far away. Jisung knew himself well enough to know being on his phone as they walked was an accident waiting to happen, so while Seungmin tapped away on his keyboard, Jisung stared at his feet and did his best to walk normally. Did his best to ignore the godawful squeaks. Did his best to not trip over uneven tiles and his own feet. 

Two people passed them, Seungmin suddenly whipped up his head as he noticed who it was. Greeted one of them. 

Jisung recognized the one Seungmin greeted, Yang...something. They often talked in low voices in the hallways or greeted each other whenever they passed. Seungmin got that glint in his eyes whenever they did. 

Though Jisung was surprised to see who it was next to him. Lee Minho. Jisung and he both locked eyes. Eyes widening as they both realized that, yes, they had also met before. In the staircase not too far away. Jisung grabbed Seungmin by his elbow when he had spoken to his friend for too long, whispered out a “hey we need to go.”

Seungmin looked at him, then at Minho, it was obvious he understood why, so he complied, said goodbye and continued to walk with Jisung. Between the muted red lockers and the students with backpacks too big, a magister here and there passing them with armsful of papers. 

Maybe one of them carried yet another piece of homework Jisung had forgotten, and flunked. 

“You are so shy Jisung.” Seungmin teased, poking at Jisung’s side. 

“Ah! I’m still so embarrassed you don’t understand.”

“I really don’t.” Seungmin sighed. Then he pointed at Jisung’s shoes. “Your shoes are untied again for f-” He stopped himself, grabbed Jisung’s shoulder to stop him too. But Jisung just swatted the hand away, scoffed. 

“Calm down it’s fine, I’ll tie them by my locker.” 

Jisung had said the same thing so many times he had lost count by now, more often than not he had stumbled on his feet at least  _ once _ before reaching said locker. But he swore it was fine. He’s just slightly clumsy. 

“You just wanna trip into dear Minho’s arms again. Don’t you?” 

“I do not.” Jisung crossed his arms and huffed. A small white lie, he kind of wanted that. Not the embarrassment, just be caught by Minho. Jisung had liked Minho for a short period in 9th grade, he liked to admire him from a distance. Look at the boy go around, with his beautiful chestnut hair and the wide smile. But just as Jisung liked him, so did about half his grade, and probably half of Minho's grade, probably half of every grade in the entire school. 

Minho was just that pretty. He was nice too, as Jisung had heard, personally he had never spoken to him at all. But he could imagine. 

The crush had faded away, but Jisung realized when he fell into the older that it would probably never disappear. Not until Minho either got a girlfriend or boyfriend, or he explicitly told Jisung that he didn’t like him. 

The latter was not probable, not because Jisung actually thought he had a shot with Minho, but rather because they would never be so close. Despite it wasn’t like he thought he was enough for Minho, not pretty enough, not smart enough, not funny enough. Not compared to  _ so _ many people in school. 

He sighed. 

“Ok maybe.” He whispered to Seungmin. He had to admit it. 

“Then why don’t you eat lunch with me and Innie on Saturday-“ 

“I refuse to be the third wheel I’m sorry.” 

“Let me finish! I’ll tell him to bring his friends, he will for sure bring Minho.” 

Jisung looked at Seungmin, felt he was just a bit  _ too _ nice. But the offer was too good, he couldn’t refuse it. 

“Yeah I’m up for it.” He said, “promise it’s not just us three then.” 

“Promise.” Seungmin responded.

He ran a thumb over the bronze packaging in his hand. It was a small make up kit Jisung had bought a while ago, it was usually hidden in his room, afraid his mom, or brother would find it. Make fun of him, get mad, whatever. So he hid it in his sleeve when he slipped into the bathroom on Saturday morning.

Jisung never did anything too noticeable, filling in the eyebrows so they looked nicer, kind of like Hyunjin’s. Or he added just the tiniest bit of dark brown eyeliner to make his eyes sharper: Just so they looked a bit more like Felix’s. 

The bathroom was stuffed, Jisung stared at his reflection. The porcelain sink under his hands was cold, yet, he felt his skin burning. Jisung had to reach over for the window and crank it open. 

Cold air. It felt nice. 

Someone knocked on the door, it was soft. 

“Jisung.” His mother’s voice echoed on the other side. 

“Yes?”

He waited for her to say something, but whatever question she waited to ask never came. So he unlocked the door and peeked out. 

She was standing a few steps away from the door, leaning against the wall. Jisung had never quite figured out what facial expressions meant what. He had gotten acquainted with disappointment, but this wasn’t it.

“Yes?” He asked again, looking at her.

“Where are you going?” 

“I’m eating lunch with Seungmin and a few of his friends.” 

“Do you have homework?” 

“I have chem I think.” 

_ “Ah there it is. Disappointment.”  _ He saw it on her face.

“You think…? How is your grade in chemistry? It wasn’t that good last year was it?” 

“No...but it’s better this year.” Jisung tried to defend himself. 

Disappointment. She turned away mumbling something to herself. Jisung could see her shake her head. He couldn’t hear her, but if it followed her usual complaints, it was somewhere along the line of “What happened with you? Your brother did so well.” 

In school he wasn’t all that much compared to his friends, at home he wasn’t all that much to his parents compared to his brother. 

He left the bathroom. Entered his room to thread on his jacket. It was almost an hour until he was supposed to meet Seungmin. But he wouldn’t mind going earlier. 

His mother said nothing when he left, but he saw her shake her head. A small crack in his heart grew a bit bigger. 

“Ah Seungmin.” Jisung wailed when Seungmin finally came walking up to the table Jisung had been sitting at for  _ way too long _ . 

Seungmin smiled, behind him Jisung recognized Jeongin. 

“You are here first? That’s new.” Seungmin said. The one behind him snickered. Jisung wanted to laugh too. 

“Ah my mom was bugging me so I left earlier.” 

“Understandable.” 

The two sat down opposite of him, and Jisung instantly felt a blanket of tension. Seungmin and Jeongin sat close to each other, and Jisung sat fiddling with his fingernails. 

_ “I have already turned into the third wheel.”  _

Jisung’s smile was painful really. Seungmin tried his best to include him too, but it was awkward. He felt out of place. 

“Uh, were there other people coming too?” Jisung asked, scratched himself behind his ear. Jeongin straightened his back.

“Yes! Two of my friends should be here too. Changbin and Mi-“ 

_ “Minho.”  _

“Oh there they are.” Jeongin pointed outside the window. 

It was indeed Minho. He wore a jean jacket, Jisung didn’t understand that, it was freezing outside. His light brown hair was parted in the middle as it usually was, he was laughing along to something the other said. Jisung assumed it was Changbin, he had never spoken to him either. But he was familiar, for as long as Jisung had been aware of Minho's existence, Changbin had been by his side. 

Jisung rested his head in his hands and watched them come in. The sun shining behind them, illuminating them both. But especially Minho. God he was quite nice to look at, Jisung thought. No longer from afar, not from below him almost at the floor. 

He seated himself next to Jisung, and Changbin next to him. Squeezing Jisung into the corner of the booth, Minho right next to him. Thighs touching. Minho's smile widened when he greeted Jisung. 

“Ah it’s you.” Minho said, somewhat teasing him.

“It is me.” Jisung answered. It wasn’t awkward at all. Rather it was like they were old friends. Sharing funny anecdotes. 

Changbin’s and Jeongin’s shot up a little. A silent question. Did Minho and Jisung know each other already? 

“It’s the guy that fell into me a while ago,” Minho explained, looking at his friends. Then he turned his attention to Jisung. “Did you ever tie your shoes?” 

A small blush formed on Jisung’s cheeks, but it could easily be blamed on the sheer embarrassment of the situation. Minho had told his friends. Of course. Jisung probably would have too if it happened to him. But Minho knew who Jisung was, and remembered him. For better or worse, it still made him blush. 

“Haha, no…” Jisung did his best to laugh it away, it was true, he probably only remembered to tie them before the last period. Even now, under the table as he played around with his own feet, did he remember the shoelaces weren’t even tied. 

Minho laughed. Sweet like honey was what it was. Jisung felt himself sigh, as if he really enjoyed the sight of Minho, or really enjoyed his voice, the smile, the face. 

There was a lot to like about Minho. 

Jisung always had a slight problem with new people. Always had. Minho must have been different in some way, whether it was the fact that they had already met, they had a fun ice breaker to talk about. Maybe it was just because Minho was  _ so  _ easy to talk to. He laughed when Jisung made jokes and he nodded along to whoever spoke. 

God. Jisung  _ really  _ liked Minho. It was  _ too _ easy, to fall for him. 

Then they had to leave, they had spent an hour and eating, probably another one just talking. The waiter looked slightly annoyed, just because they were all a tad bit too loud or maybe because they weren’t buying anything anymore. 

Seungmin and Jeongin were going to the movies, no one wanted to be the third wheel so they left first. Changbin said he had to see Chan, so he left a short while after them. 

It was in the end, just Jisung and Minho. Both seemed to have thought it was awkward to sit by themself in the restaurant, so they left. But there wasn’t much to do there either. The sun was still shining, it wasn’t warm outside, the wind was harsh and the temperature had dropped since Jisung left this morning. But the rays felt comforting and gentle on Jisung’s skin.

“I think I have to leave now. I have homework.” Jisung whispered, he was sad to leave. But he knew he couldn’t handle much more of his mother’s disappointing peaks. 

“Alright,” Minho smiled, like he did. Jisung had never seen anyone smile as much as him. 

Jisung bowed. Thanked him for the day. Then he turned around and came about 5 steps. Minho called after him.

“Your shoelaces!” He shouted. Jisung looked down on his feet. Ah they were untied. But he couldn’t be bothered, despite tripping often because of them, he was rarely bothered to tie them. 

“It’s okay.” Jisung answered. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Minho mumbled, walked up to him. Jisung still stood his ground, was about to tell Minho again that it was fine. But the older kneeled in front of him. With both his hands he grabbed the shoelaces on his right foot. Carefully beginning to tie them into a bow. 

“Is it because you can’t tie them by yourself?” A teasing smile on his face when he looked up at Jisung. He was shocked, he felt his ears heat up. 

“Yeah.” Jisung joked. Though he didn’t mind if Minho thought he couldn’t, if it meant Minho would do this more often.

The older laughed. Quite harmonic when Jisung thought of it. 

“You are funny Han,” he said, standing up “Well I gotta go too. Good luck with ur homework. Don’t be a stranger alright?” 

Jisung really  _ really  _ had to go. With every few steps he glanced behind him. Saw the oldest figure disappear more and more in the distance. The light brown hair golden in the sun. Jisung couldn’t see him, but he still saw the broad smile on his face vividly in his head. 

Minho sighed when he left, a sigh of relief, or a sigh of exhaustion. He didn’t know. Looked down on the key in his hand as he was unlocking the door to his house. He laughed when he thought about how he tied Jisung shoelaces. Found it funny he dared to do that, found it endearing when he saw the blush on the others face. 

His hands felt a bit empty now though. No shoelaces to tie. Nothing to do. 

He heard his aunt call out for him when he entered. Something about eating dinner a bit earlier. She had to work. Minho shouted back, something along the line of okay, it’s fine, I don’t care. 

It wasn’t the first time dinner was either so early it was borderline lunch because his aunt had to run to work, or if it was so late Minho was mere minutes from going to bed without food at all, because she had run late home to him. 

Sometimes he cooked food on his own for both him and her, to relieve her of the stress. But she always complained that it wasn’t any trouble for her, even if Minho wanted to argue with the dark circles. 

“You need to take better care of yourself auntie.” He whispered over the kitchen table. Then she would look at him with pity. 

“It’s not your responsibility honey. All I care about is you.” 

It stung a bit at his heart. 

They ate dinner like they did. Minho did his homework like he did. He laid in bed hours early because he was bored. Like he usually did. He saw pictures of Chan and Changbin at a party with a girl in their class, they had asked him to come. He declined like he usually did. Didn’t want to be the party pooper, he wasn’t a big fan of parties. 

One picture of Chan, throwing up a peace sign, dimples deep. There were neon lights in the background and a red cup in his other hand. Minho’s mind wandered. _ “Han Jisung, that was his name. Right? Yes it was.”  _ A simple search was probably enough, just to see. The account was locked behind the text “This account is private. Follow this account to see the-”

Was it worth it? Would he seem desperate?

The blue button was awfully tempting, so he gave in. 

It wasn’t more than ten minutes later he got the notification about Jisung accepting his request, he even got the follow back. Minho clicked on his most recent post, just a few hours ago. Jisung was showing off the big bulky black shoes he had worn a while ago. The laces were untied, messy on the ground. 

_ “Need someone to tie them :(” _ Jisung captioned it. Minho laughed, let his thumb double-tap the picture. He had to force himself to not like every single photo. Every single one was pleasing to look at. Whether it was him smiling at the camera, or if it was a picture of his friends, the sun, whatever. Minho just wanted Jisung to know he _liked it_. A line of thought was interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“I’ll be leaving soon. Love you honey.” Minho’s aunt said through the door. 

A while later he heard his aunt close the front door, she wouldn’t be home until wee hours of the night. When Minho was sound asleep. Minho once again felt alone, he often was. He never felt like his aunt didn’t love him, or wanted to be away as much as she was. But it didn’t matter how many times she told him, it was too repetitive. She may love him, but there were people out there who Minho wanted to hear; say “I love you.” just once. People out there who would never do that.

It made him feel empty. 

So a “love you” from his aunt lost it’s meaning, even if he didn’t want that. It didn’t matter that his friends could tell him how much he meant to them, or how much they loved his presence. It was never enough, or it was too much. 

He didn’t know. 18 years of age and still haven't understood the true meaning of love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ay ay ay third chapter is UP (earlier than what I thought too, call that being productive), it's still pretty light but I do have plans to make this ~angsty~ in the future hehe. thank you for reading the first, what I consider, "real" chapter. hope you enjoyed it. the next will be up as soon as I'm done with it, maybe next week? 
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated in the meantime <33


	4. A Fall To The Ground

Jisung woke up to the sound of his blinds being opened in hasty motions, the sun shining through his window. He doesn’t remember who let him choose the bedroom that faced the morning sun, but he really loathes that person, even if that person was he himself. 

“Huh?” He groaned, raising from his bed slightly. Hair a mess and eyes not open just quite yet. Jisung could vaguely make out the shape of his brother standing by the window. 

“What do you want?” Jisung huffed out, turned around in bed and pulled his duvet up over his ears. 

“Your alarm has been ringing for 40 fucking minutes Jisung! Get your fucking ass out of bed before I kick you out if it!” He screamed. 

It took Jisung approximately three seconds until the realization hit. He flew up, taking the phone that lied on his chest flying two feet into the air. It hit the ground and Jisung was already up on his feet to grab it. His brother stood still by his window, eyebrows furrowed, but his face had grown a bit pitiful. 

Jisung looked at his screen, it had a new crack, whatever. 

7:34 AM. 

He was late, he had snoozed one too many times, he had slept through every single one of his alarms. Jisung had 25 minutes to get to school. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Is mom home?” He asked his brother, frantic. 

“No she left a while ago, you’re fine. I would drive you really but dad has the car.” 

Jisung didn’t answer at all, instead, he rushed on and about his room, into the kitchen, in and out of the bathroom. He barely knew what to do or what he had to get done before leaving. 

Maybe he yelled bye to his brother before going, maybe not. He had probably gone back to bed annoyed to be woken up when it’s his free day off. Jisung ran, he knew he probably wouldn’t make it. He should have reconsidered when Felix asked him if he wanted to work out together, the strained breathing really didn’t help. He glanced down on his feet. One of the converse he was wearing was untied, he didn’t have time to stop. 

The entrance doors flew open, he ran past a handful of students who all whipped their heads around when they saw him flying past him. Jisung almost stumbled on the last step up the stairs, as he passed a clock he saw it was right past 8.  _ “God fucking dammit.”  _

“Jisung?” Someone asked, impressive, considering Jisung wasn’t much more than a shadow. Jisung turned his head around, saw light brown hair and wide eyes. 

“Minho hyung- I can’t talk right no-” 

Feet too big for his own body, of course now was the time to stumble. It could have been the shoelace, it could have been his feet, it was just him. So clumsy it was embarrassing. He fell forward, distracted by Minho, who held a bathroom pass in one hand, and his phone in the other. Like Jisung was used to doing, he caught himself with his hands, feeling the blow hit the palms of his hands first, then it was the knees, then it was the embarrassment. 

He caught himself calling out for Minho as he fell. He heard Minho calling out for him. 

Jisung forced himself up on his feet in seconds, couldn’t let anyone see him. His knees buckled and it sent sparks of pain all the way through his body. 

_ “It’s too embarrassing.”  _

“It’s fine it’s fine!” He coughed out to Minho, who was on his way to him. “Really I’m fine.” Jisung repeated. He saw his classroom just a few feet away.  _ “Don’t get distracted.”  _

Before Minho even had a shot at reaching Jisung, he rushed to the class, knees aching, heart beating too fast. Head pounding. 

“I’m sorry I’m late.” He apologized to the teacher, it wasn’t too bad. 7 minutes late. He had done worse before. The teacher nodded to Jisung to sit down.

“My bar is low for you Han.” He said. Jisung tried to laugh it off, and make eye contact with anyone of his friends. Begging for Felix to just look at him. Let him joke the throbbing pain away.  _ “Yup that’s me, late again.”  _

“Do you have your homework?” His teacher walked up to Jisung’s desk. Jisung nodded hectically. Yes, yes he did! He opened his backpack, looked between various books and papers, he had it, he did it on Saturday when he got home, and he  _ even _ knew most of the answers  _ without _ cheating this time. 

“Uh…” He mumbled out. Hand still rummaging.  _ “I have it.”  _

“I must have...forgotten it at home. I’m sorry teacher.”

The teacher sighed, loud and clear. A few students in the back snickered, and when the teacher returned to the board to continue with the lesson, Jisung tried to laugh it off too.

Jisung took a notebook from his backpack, looked through it once again, hoping his homework had been hidden in between messy notes. It wasn’t, Jisung was barely surprised. For the entire lesson he scribbled down whatever his teacher said, or wrote on the board. He doubted he would use the notes for anything important, to be honest, but at least it kept his parents away from thinking he didn’t try. 

As he left the room when the class was over in the herd of students, in between Hyunjin and Seungmin and Felix all slapping his back and laughing at something he said. A joke he couldn’t even remember, maybe about him, or the fall, or the homework. 

“Han Jisung.” His teacher sat on the desk in the front, when Jisung turned around to look at him the teacher waved him in. Asked him to stay for a second. All of his friends threw him a glance, then they left the classroom without him. 

Jisung walked up to his teacher with his head down, looking at his feet. Black converse, one of them still untied. 

“I know you have had a hard time with chemistry…” He began, Jisung could feel the air of pity from him. Like Jisung waited for him to tell him he was plain stupid. “I must say, your grades have improved significantly since last year. But you can’t continue this, be late, forget homework. Midterms are coming up.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I believe in you,” 

Jisung looked up at him, eyes wide, if he didn’t fight it back, he was sure his eyes would soon grow glossy. 

“I really do. But if you don’t come by tomorrow with the homework I’ll be forced to give you a zero on it. Okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.” Jisung bowed deep, felt the need to practically kneel. 

He left, three friends outside the door looking at him like hungry vultures. Perhaps they expected Jisung to come out and tell them his teacher was giving him an F and was failing the whole course. He just shrugged, huffed. “Nothing serious.”

While on their way to whatever class they had next, Jisung told them about his fall in the morning. 

“My knees ache so bad I swear I think I broke them.” He laughed. 

“You think you’d be able to walk if you broke them?” Hyunjin asked, voice teasing. 

Jisung pretended to fall to the floor again, and laughed when his friends laughed at him. It was nice, maybe they really found him funny. If he couldn’t be as tall, or pretty, or smart as them, all he had was his humour. The four continued to walk in the corridor. Jisung’s heart was still pounding from the fall, the interaction with his teacher, the shock and chaos of the entire morning. 

“Jisung!” Someone grabbed his shoulder from behind, Jisung was startled. The chopsticks in one of his hands rattled and the lunchbox in his other almost fell to the floor. He whipped his head around, barely having time to recognize the voice. Seungmin yelped from the loud shout and both Hyunjin and Felix widened their eyes. 

“Wha- Minho hyung?” 

Minho had come from, what could have been explained as nowhere. Behind him his three friends followed, Jisung was only familiar with Changbin and Jeongin, not the third one. He was not a stranger, but Jisung didn’t really know him. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, frantic almost. And sat down next to Jisung. The bench was big enough for probably 4 people, but Minho sat so close Jisung could feel his warmth. Minho’s three friends whispered that they would go sit down, and wait for Minho there. 

“Why would I not be?” 

“You- you fell this morning.” Minho said, and one of his hands trailed after Jisung’s legs. Fell on one of the knees. Jisung almost thought his pants would catch on fire. 

The question was so genuine, Jisung could see he was worried. From between the furrowed eyebrows and the corners of his mouth in a frown. The hand on Jisung’s knee was light as a feather, like he was afraid Jisung’s knees still hurt, but he wanted to be there. 

“I’m...I’m fine. Yeah.” Jisung covered his mouth and cleared his throat. He could practically see his own face turn red in the reflection of Minho’s eyes. “I’m clumsy. I fall all the time.” 

Minho relaxed, Jisung could see that. How his simple words brought so much peace to Minho. Jisung let out a low chuckle, how Minho’s caring question brought Jisung so much glee.

The older one bent his head and looked below the table. His eyebrows furrowed even more. 

“Why is your shoe untied?”

“I forgot to tie it.” Jisung answered the prompt question. 

“Even after the fall?” 

Jisung turned away, embarrassed to answer. Yes, he hadn’t even tied it between the long period of time from the fall and lunch. Rarely did, would probably not do in the future either. 

Minho stood up, patted Jisung on the shoulder. Whispered for him to turn around and face him. Jisung obliged, but he was nervous without a doubt. Whatever Minho now planned to do. A few students sitting at tables close to them now turned their heads to question the two boys. Minho was fairly popular perhaps, well known among most students in school. So for him to stand promptly in front of, what could have been described as a quite pathetic underclassman was an unusual sight. 

He kneeled, like he did just a few days ago. He grabbed the two laces, and carefully knit a bow. Minho looked up at Jisung, with light brown eyes who in the yellow light from the ceiling lamps didn’t look quite as beautiful as Jisung had seen them before. His mouth was in a firm line. He stood up, brushed off his pants. 

“Be more careful with yourself. Okay?” 

Jisung nodded, paralyzed to do anything else. He just turned around slowly when Minho had left their table. His friends looked at him, and Jisung had genuinely forgotten they were there. That anyone was there, it wasn’t just he and Minho. 

“Oh wow.” Seungmin breathed out. He looked surprised, everyone did. 

“Do you and hyung have some secret relationship we don’t know about? Romantic or not.” Felix asked Jisung. 

“No. We met for the first time this Saturday.” Jisung admitted. Seungmin, of course knew. But Hyunjin and Felix were in shock. Hyunjin so much he actually took his things and seated himself next to Jisung. He cleared his throat and tucked his own black hair behind his ear. 

“You mean- to tell me Lee Minho, the  _ Lee Minho you had a raging crush on in 9th grade _ , treats you like this after only meeting you...once? Tie your shoes for you and want you to promise to stay careful?”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

Well, when Hyunjin put it like that.

Jisung couldn’t stop thinking about it when he left the cafeteria while smiling at Minho, who smiled back. Couldn’t stop thinking about it for the entirety of his English class, nor on his walk home from school. He practically skipped on the sidewalk, kicking small rocks and smiling when listening to the faint whistling of birds.

Minho really treated him like no one quite had before. 

His friends loved him dearly, even when Jisung hated himself so much he wished to disappear into nothingness. They must have at least, why else would they stick around with him for so long. So there was a very small part of him that didn’t doubt that Minho  _ could  _ like him. As a friend or not. 

But he had only met Jisung once, barely knew his name, did Minho even know how old he was? Did he ever mention that? 

Still, he treated Jisung with care, laughed with him like his jokes were truly hilarious. Listened to him talk about nonsense, when it was obvious he had even lost Seungmin. Tied his shoes. Told him to be careful. 

Jisung liked that, very much. Liked Minho, quite a lot. Attention had never been so addicting before. 

Yet, it had never been so frightening. Jisung pondered if he could even wear normal converse to school again. He wasn’t even that much shorter than Minho, but out of all of his friends, except maybe Changbin, it was obvious when they walked next to each other he wasn’t as tall as the other. He realized that he actually quite feared Minho seeing him in the presence of his friends, knowing that Minho would find Hyunjin or Felix prettier than him caused dread he rarely felt. 

There was too much to compete with. Minho may have paid attention to Jisung now, but who knew when the attention would turn to someone else. 

Jisung entered his room, neither one of his parents was yet to come home and it seemed his brother had left at some point during the day. Alone in his house, able to do whatever he wanted. Yet, nothing to do, nothing he wanted to do. 

He wandered around, the living room was quite boring. It felt like he never spent time here anyway, sometimes he would hear the sound of the TV, and he’d see his father slouched back watching it. His mother was barely there, neither was his brother. He couldn’t recall the last time they had all sat down to watch a movie.  _ “People do that?”  _ He wondered. Jisung glanced at the various pictures hanging on the wall. Multiple of all four of them, a few of Jisung and his brother alone. Various school photos, one of his father when he was presented with an award Jisung couldn’t remember. One of his mother on her latest high school reunion.

Jisung looked happy in the photos, from long before he grew up. Before he learned about the countless things he could hate about himself. Jisung scoffed. Couldn’t stand the pictures. He entered his room, it was still a mess from this morning. Duvet half on the bed and half on the floor. A few papers spread on the floor in chaos. 

He picked them up and recognized one of them as the chemistry homework he had forgotten in the morning. Jisung wanted to laugh at himself.  _ “Clumsy me, forgetting that.”  _

His phone lit up on his nightstand. It was Seungmin, asking him if he wanted to eat lunch again, next Saturday. “It’s with Jeongin and company.” He said. “I’ll invite Hyunjin and Felix too.” 

“Of course I’ll be there.” 

Jisung just had to get through the week first. 

Late at night, when Jisung undressed, he observed the bruises on his knees. Bright red and still sore. Three on his right knee, two on his left. He traced them with his fingers, the ring finger on his left hand had a baby blue band-aid. Jisung had gotten a terrible paper cut a few days ago, it wouldn’t stop bleeding, and it didn’t seem to heal. 

_ “Maybe I’m cursed.”  _ He whispered to himself, falling asleep. Mind wildly occupied by someone with chestnut hair parted in the middle, light brown eyes that glimmered in the daylight. Someone who could perhaps caress his knees and tell him to be more careful when he forgot to be. _ “Maybe I’ve been blessed.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hihi its still minhos bday for me so happy bday to him <33 love him sm its crazy <3
> 
> thank u for reading this chapter, hoped it lived up to expectations!! constructive criticism is welcomed if you happen to have any <3
> 
> kudos and comments are always greatly appreciated, truly. stay safe until next time mwah


	5. Minho Breaks a Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna b honest I forgot about posting the last chapter like I was 100% sure this was the fourth chapter but? apparently not? anyway put on some semisad music and enjoy. can I recommend [this ](https://youtu.be/B_m89yPmnyQ) playlist?

Saturday came around so fast Minho barely realized it, he wasn’t sure if it was because he actually looked forward to it, or if it was because he just couldn’t wait to get past the week. He was truthfully tired, felt a small desire to call Jeongin and cancel. Tell the friend that  _ he just won’t make it.  _ Lie. _ “My aunt really needs my help.”  _ He even wrote down, hovered above the send button, already on Thursday night. Pondering if it was okay, if they would get annoyed if he were to say that. 

Then, Jeongin texted him. He had forgotten to tell that Seungmin was bringing his friends. Minho erased the message he had written, pretended it didn’t exist, and waited for Saturday to come. It would probably be more exciting than what Minho expected anyway, a happy surprise. It would be fun to meet Seungmin’s friends, really, The blonde one Minho had forgotten the name of, it was not Korean at least, he went by another name. The one with black hair who often bore glasses, he had a mole underneath his eye. Jisung. Jisung too. It would be fun to see Jisung. 

He woke up on Saturday morning, the house was empty. But there was breakfast in the fridge Minho’s aunt had prepared, Minho hadn’t noticed it yesterday, but she must have done it before she left late at night. Minho grabbed his hand over his chest, felt it tighten. He folded the post-it note she had written for him and stuffed it in his jeans pocket before he let himself read it. 

Minho sat down on his bed, awaiting the time for when it would be appropriate to go. He could take the bus, it would go significantly faster, he wouldn’t have to walk in the cold. On the other hand, sitting in his room, where it got stuffier and his mind more impatient, he wasn’t sure he would be able to handle it for much longer.

“Ah, so many people.” Jisung whined when he arrived at their table along with Felix, everyone else was sitting down, mind engulfed in various menus and conversations. Only Minho scooted to his right, squeezing Chan into the corner, to make place for Jisung. Oh, Felix too of course. 

Jisung smiled at Minho nevertheless, letting him know he clearly didn’t care about the fact that there were a lot of people there, at least wasn’t bothered that Minho was there. 

Most of them fell into conversation easily, Minho realized most, if not all, were very sociable. Felix reached over the table to give Chan an unexpected high five, they said something about vacationing at the same place every summer, but Minho missed most of their conversation to be honest. Jeongin and Hyunjin fell into banter quickly, which everyone found very amusing. 

Even Jisung, albeit much quieter than the rest, found a shared and passionate music interest with Changbin and Chan. Whenever the younger didn’t talk, he threw careful glances towards Minho, glances Minho caught every single time. Reciprocating every single one, as if it was addicting to do so. 

Well, it was. Jisung’s eyes were ones Minho wouldn’t mind drowning in. Incredibly dark, Minho had a hard time differentiating the iris and the pupil, but he liked that. Could see himself in Jisung’s eyes. 

Dark brown eyes, like dark terracotta, or maybe more like the brownies his aunt used to make. But sometimes when Jisung turned his head they looked more like the pitch-black sky, accompanied by the stars. Minho liked looking at the sky. 

“Do you want my shrimp?” Jisung whispered to Minho, held up one of them with his chopsticks. 

“You don’t like shrimp?” He had to ask, he found it laughable. Didn't Minho order a dish _with_ shrimp?

“I do, but you stare so much, there must be something you want. So, shrimp?” 

Minho slouched back in the chair, stretched his arms above his head and chuckled. 

“I’m staring because you stare, but sure, I would like a shrimp.” 

He grabbed his chopstick, ready to take it from Jisung, but the younger moved his hand away. Frowned. Minho was about to ask what he was doing. One of the corners of the youngers mouth jerked upwards, leading the shrimp towards Minho’s mouth. Minho sighed, frowned at him slightly, wanted to laugh. But couldn’t. 

Jisung was endearing, widening his eyes waiting for Minho to give in. 

So he did, everyone pretended they didn’t see when Minho chuckled and opened his mouth. And everyone pretended they didn’t see when Jisung smiled and gave it to Minho.

“Good?” Jisung asked.

“Very.” Minho answered. 

Minho let one of his arms rest on the backrest behind Jisung. Tapping his finger on the wood to the beat of the song playing over the speakers, when Jisung leaned back, he startled himself on Minho's arm, first looked at it, then up on Minho's face. Not that he said anything though. Just let his back come in contact with Minho's hand ever so often.

The party sat around the table for long, even after the food was eaten, and the dessert. It was Seungmin’s uncle’s restaurant, they found out. 

“He won’t care if we sit here.” Seungmin assured, said he eats here often. 

Time passed. Minho noticed, every time he looked at the clock above them. Another ten minutes had passed. Though whatever conversation they were having was interesting, he found himself thanking the gods when Felix was the first one to stand up. “I’m sorry, I have to go. It was nice eating.” 

“Should we call it? We’ve been here for like three hours.” Changbin asked. And everyone hummed in agreement. 

Outside the restaurant they all shook hands and patted each other on the back in awkward hugs as everyone left. 

Jisung groaned.

“Tired?” Minho asked, who was the only one, except Chan and Changbin left. The three of them looked at Jisung. 

“Ah no. I have homework, uh, a bunch of assignments to do really.” 

Minho “ah’ed” felt that he ran himself into a dead-end, the four stood quietly for a few seconds until Chan and Changbin had to leave too, that their bus was coming. Jisung and Minho left in awkward silence. 

“Minho hyung.” Jisung began. His voice was quiet, and a lot of the confidence and teasing Minho was used to was gone.

“Mhm.” 

“Would you mind...helping me with a few assignments…? Uh, you don’t have to of course, I’ve just heard from a few people you are very intelligent so if you have the time of course- ah you know what maybe it was stupi-“ 

“I can help you. I don’t mind. Now?” 

Minho slapped Jisung on the shoulder a few times, grinned at him. 

“Yeah. Now. If you don’t mind.” 

“I don’t.” Minho repeated.

Jisung beamed, nodded, took a step to his right, stopped in his tracks and turned back around again. Minho thought he caught him saying that the bus was “this way, not that.” The two walked quickly, Jisung grabbing a hold of the end of Minho’s jacket sleeve to lead him in the right direction. It was far from uncomfortable, but Minho quickly grabbed his hand instead. Jisung whipped his head around and looked down on the interlocked fingers. 

“It’s cold. I like holding hands.” Minho defended, Jisung said nothing at all. But flushed red and hurried in his steps, the hold tightened though, and Minho found it funny.

Jisung mumbled all too many things outside his door while unlocking, so much, Minho barely caught half of it. Something about his mother, something about his father, something about his brother. Jisung seemed genuinely worried, so Minho could do nothing but assure him that he didn’t care about them. 

“I’m home.” Jisung called out when he closed the door behind him and Minho. His mother peaked out of the kitchen, raised her eyebrows when she saw Minho take off his shoes. 

“Who’s that?” 

It wasn’t embarrassing, but Minho noticed that Jisung wanted to squirm, turned pink in shame. 

“Mom. This is- Lee Minho. Friend, he. Yeah. He’s helping me with school work.” Jisung barely made it through the sentence without stumbling. Minho took a few steps towards Jisung’s mother, to greet her properly. She looked pleased with that, and sent Jisung an accepting glance. She liked him. 

The two escaped to Jisung’s room, walking past his father in the living room. Today he was watching a football game. He and Jisung greeted each other casually when both had acknowledged each other's presence. 

Jisung fell down on his bed and groaned, Minho poked him on the forehead. 

“Hey, we are studying right.”

“Yeah, yeah, give me a second.” 

The younger searched on the nightside table for a textbook, in it he pulled out a worksheet. Mumbled;  _ “I didn’t get this done in class, so I have to finish it now.” _

“Math” he sighed, Minho scooted in next to him on the bed.

“Then you will be glad to know math is my best subject, believe it or not.” 

Minho and Jisung fell into a comfortable silence, Jisung held his pen and scribbled nonsense onto every question. Looking over at Minho questioning himself every now and again.  _ “Am I doing it right?” _ He asked with his eyes.

If Minho nodded he was right, and Minho would mumble out reassurance. If Minho shook his head, he wasn’t on the right track. Then Minho would straighten his back and show Jisung the right formula, or where he had counted wrong somewhere. 

“Hyung?” Jisung asked, they had finished his math a while ago. Stuck on their phones before they both could gain the strength to get on with anything else.

“Mhm.” 

“Why are you so nice to me?” 

One of his eyebrows shot up. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, this is technically only our second time...hanging out. I felt crazy asking if you wanted to help me, and now I feel crazy because you said yes.” 

“Ah you think so much, I have nothing to do, I think you’re nice. So, I’m here.”

Jisung looked at him wide-eyed, mouth hanging agape just in the slightest, he looked surprised by the answer. Minho didn’t understand that. Wondering what could possibly be going on inside Jisung’s head for him to ask so out of nowhere  _ why _ Minho was hanging out with him. 

What was he supposed to say? Minho barely knew himself, was it because he thought Jisung was effortlessly funny. Hilarious down to the bone with jokes coming from nowhere and skits and impressions. Minho was far from an introvert, but he suspected Jisung was. The younger seemed to grow tired quickly when they ate together and quieted down. But even then he was pleasing to be with, and Minho found it comforting. Jisung must have too, in just the company of Minho, well, he looked secure. Relaxed. 

With face flushed in the faintest of red, Jisung turned away. Minho could see him clenching his jaw. He could keep on listing things in his head that he liked about Jisung really, but he feared the younger would explode if he said them out loud. He chuckled, low, vibrating through the air. 

Time flew by, Minho barely noticed. Entranced perhaps by the presence of the younger. Entranced by the reading assignment Jisung began with, he listened to Jisung flip pages and mumble out words at random. Occasionally asking what a word meant, or how to formulate a sentence. 

Minho genuinely didn’t know how, but at some point, Jisung ended up sitting on the floor right below the bed, while Minho laid on the actual bed, scrolling through instagram. 

“Hey Jisung,” Minho said, glanced outside the window, realizing the sky was turning dark. “I think I need to head home.” 

Jisung whipped up his head, followed Minho’s eyes outside. It must have been hours since they got here. He hadn’t even noticed. 

“Oh- of course.” He raised from the floor, laid the assignment on his desk, a few feet from the bed. Minho stood up too, brushed off his pants and stretched his back. 

They walked together to the door, the house had been filled with the savory scent of food, Minho could see Jisung wanted to ask if he wanted to stay and eat. An offer Minho would have to refuse if it came. 

He tied his shoes, threaded on the jeans jacket, frozen in silence, unsure how to say goodbye. 

“It was nice, today. We should do it more often.” Minho said, untangling the headphones in his hand. 

“It really was, not just because you helped me.” Jisung laughed. Minho did too. Realized he did that a lot. 

Laughed and smiled. Did it the entire way home, couldn’t stop while eating dinner with his aunt, didn’t  _ want  _ to stop either. It felt good. 

He passed the mirror in his room, it was quite big, with no frame. Just a sad, silver, mirror. 

Minho wasn’t a fan of his reflection. 

Often when he passed it, the smile was fake as it could get. It was comfortable smiling, because no one questioned your happiness. Not that Minho was sad, at least he didn’t give himself the chance to feel sad.

_ “No reason to be sad.”  _ He murmured to himself, even when he felt his throat grow thick and large beads of tears form in his eyes.  _ “I’m pretty and I’m smart, a lot of people like me. I have my friends, my aunt loves me. No reason to be sad..”  _ He pointed at his reflection, as if it tried to disprove himself. Like his reflection was trying to convince him it was all a lie. 

Minho had a lot of things he loved, for example his aunt and his friends. Sometimes he pretended he didn’t love them, because love was hard and rarely made sense, always hurt in the end. 

_ “(...) memory is no friend. It can only tell you what you no longer have.”  _

Sometimes when Minho walked past the sad, silver, mirror; he saw the reflection of his parents too. 

He didn’t remember much of them, they looked like they did when Minho was 3. His father looked much like him, so had he heard, his mother was smart and beautiful and shared the same light brown eyes as Minho. He couldn’t remember what they sounded like, or what they were like.

Only that they didn’t love him. 

Minho walked past his reflection once again before falling asleep on that Saturday. The Saturday he spent with Jisung, in close proximity filled with light laughter and security. More often than not, the smile he occasionally caught himself bearing in the mirror was monotone, nothing but a fraud. 

That day, it was, well, very real. 

It only took two days for Minho to ask Jisung directly again if they could hang out. 

“We don’t have to do anything.” He said, just wanted to be with Jisung. Liked the presence of the younger. The younger must have liked it too, even when Minho sat in silence Jisung just sat by his side occasionally looking over at him. Eyes Minho deemed curious, inspecting whatever feature of Minho's Jisung could see. 

They hung out once, twice. Sometimes Minho caught Chan and Felix hanging out too. Minho sometimes accompanied Seungmin and Jeongin to the movies. Hyunjin, Felix and Changbin were surprisingly a force not to be reckoned with. One could argue that they all met by chance, bloomed from Seungmin and Jeongin’s unlabeled and complicated relationship. Despite this, it seemed they all fit together well. Puzzle pieces falling into place next to each other, or perhaps it was because they were soulmates in their past lives. Minho didn’t know. Who could? But he very much enjoyed it. 

He and Jisung hung out for the third time, and then a fourth. Sometimes they just sat in the library studying, sometimes they bought ice cream after school. 

Jisung followed Minho home once after school, had dinner with Minho and his aunt. Minho could no longer count on his fingers how many times the two had hung out together. 

Minho looked over at his aunt during dinner, she looked happy, though that wasn’t an unfamiliar expression of hers, there was something else too. As if she was at rest, calm. 

“I think you are a very exceptional young man! I’m sure you will do good.” She told Jisung, after he had joked about being sure about failing his midterm in math. 

“He is,” Minho said, without thinking. Only realizing what he has said when it was done. He looked over at Jisung, who’s eyes had widened twice their original size. 

“Don’t let it get to your head, you can’t even tie your shoes.” Minho then scoffed.

Jisung let out a sound of offense, smacked Minho on the shoulder. Blushing red.

“I do! But you always offer to tie them, why would I do it myself then?!” 

The two bickered, while Minho's aunt went around the table cleaning off the dishes. Jisung shot up on his feet after a while, helping her. She swatted him away and defeated, Jisung followed Minho into his room, a cat by his feet, and another one on Minho's bed. 

Jisung posed in front of the mirror, brought out his phone. 

“Ah the lighting here is...something else, fantastic.” He said, holding up his phone and taking picture after picture. Minho smiled at him from his bed. Walked up behind Jisung, grinned for the picture.

“Wahh hyung, you look so good.” Jisung slipped up, Minho thought it looked like Jisung regretted saying it. Or rather that he said it out loud. A faint blush spread on his cheeks all the way to his ears. A bit quieter, he whispered, while winking his eyes and holding up a peace sign. Yet another picture.

“Very pretty I think…” 

Minho felt his heart flutter a bit, he realized the comments and compliments Jisung often gave him did something to him. He felt addicted to it. Felt good. Felt guilty. 

Jisung left a while later, his mother was apparently upset he was out so late on a school night. “I swear she doesn’t get upset if I stay at work until midnight. But when I’m with friends.” 

Minho scoffed, hugged him goodbye. Jisung’s fingers lingered around Minho's waist. 

“Chan. Be honest.” Minho looked the other straight in the eyes. He looked up from his textbook, mouth opening in a yawn. 

“What?” 

“Do you think...Jisung likes me?”

“You mean, like  _ like _ you?” Chan put down his pen. 

“Yeah.” 

“It’s very obvious he does. Dude is head over heels for you.” Chan seemed serious, but he still smirked, perhaps he waited for Minho to tell him he liked Jisung too. 

Rather, Minho just let out a whisper. “ _ Fuck.”  _

He paced around his room. Back and forth between the dull walls. His blinds were closed. The room dark.

“You like the attention don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, but rather a statement. Someone said it to Minho. No, not someone. No one but his reflection whispered it from the sad, silver, mirror on his wall.

Minho stared at himself. Afraid to move. 

“Ah you do. You want Jisung to like you. Want him to compliment you and follow you like you're an idol. A god. It feels good right?” 

“No.”

“Yes it does. Don’t you feel the excitement when he says all those things? Can’t you remember how good you felt when Chan said it was obvious he likes you?”

“No.” 

“Don’t lie, Minho. You can’t lie to me. I’m you, don’t you remember? I know what you think, you know what I say is true. Don’t deny it.” 

He walked a few steps towards the mirror, like it was a person he was fighting with. Technically it was. He guessed, fought with himself. 

“Shut up.”

“Jisung is probably sitting in his bed right now. Texting Felix all about yesterday, you spent the whole day together. How you said Jisung was pretty, but didn’t you just say it because you wanted him to compliment you back? Jisung is probably texting Felix telling him that he thinks you like him back.”

“Stop. Don’t say that.” Minho felt it fell flat, he was afraid it was true. Couldn’t even separate truth from fake in his own heart. 

  
  


“Do you like him back? Really. I think you just want Jisung to think that so he will shower you in love. Using Jisung to replace what you miss in life. All while smiling so innocently. Isn't it sad Jisung doesn’t know how cruel you are?”

Minho swung at his mirror with his hand. Couldn’t stand it anymore. The accusations against himself he now doubted weren't far from wrong. The shadows of his parents who rejected him too long ago. The smile Minho often wore that was too fake, the one he could no longer differentiate it from the real anymore. 

It broke into smithereens, the silver pieces exploded on the floor. The sound of it was too loud. Minho didn’t know what to expect. It shrieked in his ears.

“Minho!” His aunt opened the door. Shocked to see the scene in front of her. “Are you okay?” She took a few steps forward, stepped over the broken silvery glass with her slippers. Took his hand and inspected it. A cut Minho hadn’t noticed bled terribly. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He couldn’t say anything else. His aunt took him into the kitchen, cleaned the cut for him and bandaged him until it stopped bleeding. Then they cleaned up pieces of a broken, silver, and sad mirror from the floor in silence. Not a word uttered between heavy breathing, beating hearts and especially the loud screaming inside Minho's head. 

Minho invited Jisung over. The younger one was cheerier than usual. Skipped through the door with untied shoelaces and hand gripping tight at his backpack. When he entered Minho's room he obviously noticed the absence of his mirror, but he didn’t mention it. 

“We have to talk.”

God it carried too much weight. Jisung sat down, his fingers had already started fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt. 

“I know…you like me. Uh I don’t know how much. But I know, it’s more than just...as friends.”

Minho could see something on Jisung falter. It was obvious to the younger, that what Minho was about to say wasn’t remotely close to the happy ending one wanted to hear when someone you liked knew about it. 

“But we can’t. You  _ can’t  _ like me. It won’t work. I like hanging out with you,” Minho sat up. “You know I do! You are funny and easy to be with and I love that. But I can’t do it if you like me in that way.”

“Oh.” Jisung merely breathed out.

“I wanna be your  _ friend. _ I like you a lot.” Minho was serious, almost grabbed his chest with his hand. 

“I like being your friend too.” Jisung mumbled. 

“Can we do that?” 

“Yeah, I think...I maybe just had to hear that.” His face was red and he tried to smile, but it was obvious he was embarrassed. 

Minho breathed out. But a lump was still stuck in his throat. 

“But I can’t stay now. Sorry.” Jisung said. Stood up, his hand was once again gripping tight at the straps of his backpack.

Jisung left faster than he had come. 

The mirror on Minho's wall was gone, but he could still feel the shadow of it, hear the nonexistent reflection talk to him. On the floor there were remnants of a broken heart, but they were pieces not even Minho could pick up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *groans punches air screams bites someone* this chapter turned out longer than what I meant it to be but I had ~flow~, now, I'm drained, creativity gone, braincells gone, motivation at life gone. 
> 
> ok kidding. a bit. I'm sure ill be back sooner than later. 
> 
> the quote "(...) memory is no friend. It can only tell you what you no longer have.” is by Margaret Atwood, its from A visit in "Morning In The Burned House." 
> 
> okay, thank you for reading hehe I hope you liked it <3
> 
> kudos and comments always appreciated, stay safe until we meet again


	6. Addiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting this at nealry 3 am ikd if its readable

The rain must have been coming down quickly, when Jisung stepped off the bus a few blocks from his house the ground was dark grey, and he could soon feel water seep into the converse. The skies were clearing again, bright blue peeking out from behind clouds. Jisung was used to spending much of his day together with Minho, used to walk home once it was nearly pitch black outside, he _was not_ used to still see the presence of the sun. 

He hurried along the sidewalk. Head tilted towards the clouds, afraid something would spill from his eyes if he pretended everything was normal.

Everything is normal. Jisung tried to remind himself everything was normal, Minho and he was still friends. Of course they were. But it was stabbing at his heart.

“ _I_ _can’t be friends with you if you like me.”_

It repeated itself inside Jisung. Slowly spiraled into words Jisung wasn’t sure was real or not.

“ _I can’t like someone like you.”_ Did he say that? 

“ _I would never like someone like you.”_

 _“I don’t like you, maybe if you were prettier or funnier.”_ Minho wouldn’t say that, yet despite that, it was all Jisung could hear. 

His hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, shielding them from the cold. His cheek stung, like needles were prickling on them from the harsh wind. He guessed the sun was the sole consolation he could comfort himself in. 

Jisung gripped the door handle, unable to open it. The metal was cold in his palm. He could hear his mother scramble inside the kitchen, even from outside. He saw the light blue luminous light coming from the TV from one of the windows. It felt like the sky outside was turning darker each minute. Like the weather became colder the longer he stood still. At last he twisted the handle and walked through the door. 

“Hello.” He mumbled out, kicking off his shoes. 

“Jisung? Home already, you left just over an hour ago?” His mother asked, head peeking around the door, 

“Mhm, something came up for Minho hyung.” 

She “ah-ed”, and Jisung walked to his room, tried to force out a smile that didn’t look too fake. 

Jisung fell onto his bed, drowned in the duvets, he felt weird. Like he was high out of his mind, the world was spinning, his throat was thick, even in the warmth of his room his eyes stung and watered like someone was blowing ice cold wind in them.

He didn’t feel good. 

Jisung promised himself, long ago, back in 9th grade when his crush on Minho was still blooming and new and exciting that he would probably only ever stop crushing on Minho if “he either gets a partner, or he tells me he doesn’t like me.” He had forgotten the promise in 10th grade already when the crush had suffocated, and was only reminded of it when Minho caught him below the stairs. Comforting hands around his shoulders. 

_“Minho doesn’t like me.”_ He whispered to himself, he knew it deep down perhaps, but it was much more painful than what he would imagine to hear it. 

Breathing felt heavy. Jisung closed his eyes. 

It was a while ago they met, Jisung and Minho to be specific. 

Jisung liked to joke about it, like many things he was actually ashamed of. _“Yeah remember when I fell into you?”_ He used to say to Minho, and Minho would laugh and rub his hair. Call him silly and clumsy. Tell Jisung he needs to be more careful.

Now it was almost winter, they had spent many weekdays and evenings together, either by themself, or occasionally with the other ones. Jisung couldn’t lie though, if he could choose, he would be with Minho all the time. Alone. He liked it too much when Minho threw his arm around Jisung’s shoulders, or when Minho knelt down and tied his shoes, especially when threw out jokes Jisung couldn’t help but smile extra much at. 

_“Jisungie is mine, he’s with me!”_ He yelled once, when they were teaming up in the arcade against Seungmin and Jeongin. Then he grabbed Jisung by the hand and dragged him towards a racing game. Jisung lost terribly, and Minho had to carry them to victory, but he still cheered as if Jisung didn’t crash his car in the first 4 seconds and got the last place. 

Sometimes Minho would joke that he didn’t like Jisung, as cruel as it sounded. _“Ah you are so annoying.” “You like me too much.”_ But he would still talk about his day in low whispers only for Jisung to hear when they met late in the evening, occasionally the older braided small braids into Jisung’s dark hair. _“You need to cut it, it’s rowdy.”_

Minho would poke and tease Jisung because he knew it tickled, he would suffocate him under a pillow when Jisung tried to do the same, he’d hug him from behind or scratch his chin like he was one of Minho’s cats. 

So many memories the two had formed in such a short while, just because Jisung doesn’t tie his shoelaces and wears too big shoes, just because Jisung is so clumsy he fell into Minho’s arms. 

A stupid crush just because Minho is so effortlessly beautiful one can’t deny it, so funny Jisung doubles laughing when he’s joking, so downright nice Jisung sometimes wonder if he’s an angel. A stupid crush Jisung couldn’t let go of because Minho caught Jisung falling in the stairs. 

Feelings that weren’t reciprocated because Jisung probably wasn’t handsome enough for Minho, nor funny, not his type maybe. 

“Jisung it’s dinner.” 

His brother knocked on the door but walked in before Jisung could answer, he naturally threw a glance towards the clock on his nightstand. _“Oh, it’s been hours since I came home…”_ Jisung hadn’t noticed time went by so quickly. 

“God who shit in your mailbox?” 

Jisung raised to his elbows, eyebrows furrowing together. “What…?”

“Why are you in such a bad mood?” His brother asked again. 

Jisung flung his feet off the bed, stretched his arms above his head. 

“I’m not.” He huffed, it was obvious he was. But brothers between, they had learned that you talked if you wanted to. No reason to push for an answer. So the older one mumbled something Jisung didn’t catch and left Jisung’s room, with Jisung following close behind to the dinner table. 

Dinner at the Han’s was usually not very talkative, not that their family didn’t like each other, they did, it was just that Jisung had gotten tired of talking about school. It only disappointed his mother anyway, so she stopped asking. Jisung’s father had grown tired of asking his brother how it went with his love life, or his job, or his driver's license. Jisung's brother only grunted and answered “still single,” or “it’s alright dad,” anyway. 

So dinner grew quiet, only the occasional clang of glasses against the table or chewing that was too loud. 

When they were done it was either Jisung’s turn to help with dishes, or his brother. His father usually sat down in front of the TV after dinner, sometimes his mother would join him and read a book or she would disappear into her study. It was quiet between everyone nevertheless. 

Jisung would go into his room to study for a test he prayed he would do well on, Jisung’s brother escaped into his room, a room he wished he could move out from soon. Jisung’s parents fell asleep with their backs facing each other, but they still kissed each other on the forehead at breakfast pretending their marriage was like it was in the beginning, for that was what they longed for. 

The Han family would fall asleep, and tomorrow they would repeat the process again. The house was quiet most of the time, just the TV playing sports, pages of a book being turned, breathing that was loud. The Han house didn’t talk to each other. They liked each other, sure. 

_“Every family has to like each other in the end, right? Love each other.”_ Jisung wondered.

He tossed and turned in his bed. Trying to figure out if it was too cold, or too hot. If his pillow was the problem or if it was his mattress that was suddenly uncomfortable.

Jisung drew circles on his bare arm, it tickled a bit, he felt goosebumps rise on his skin. He glanced to the clock beside him, bright red digits glowing in the dark. It was nearing midnight, no wonder he couldn’t sleep. His usual bedtime wasn’t until an hour or two, so he should have known he wouldn’t fall asleep when he went to bed at 10. 

As if it would make him tired, he forced out a yawn. Tapped the screen on his phone and watched it light up, checked to see if anything had happened.

A few notifications from the group chat, containing the 8 of them. None were from Minho, maybe the older was avoiding contact as much as Jisung. He saw Felix had sent him something on Instagram, and a teacher had left comments on an assignment he handed in earlier in the week.

He turned around, stared at the bare ceiling. When he was younger they lived in another house, it was a long time ago, Jisung barely remembered anything of it. But he did remember his father glued light in the dark stars on his ceiling, they were bright at night, Jisung loved them. Now, he sighed, the ceiling was bare and boring and sad. His heart ached. Everything felt wrong. 

Jisung closed his eyes, when he opened them again it was to the sound of his alarm in the morning. Hours had passed, yet, it didn't feel like he had slept for one hour even. He dreaded going to school, and wasn't sure he would survive seeing Minho. But his mother would never let him stay home unless he was so sick he was coughing up his lungs or sweating away his own body weight. 

“Are you okay?” Felix asked him, having a hard time keeping up with Jisung’s fast strides.

“Mhm, tired.” He answered, not far from the truth. 

Jisung had gotten through most of the day, or well, the first half of it. Fortunately he hadn’t caught sight of Minho yet. But he and Felix were on their way towards the cafeteria now, on their way to meet Seungmin and Hyunjin, Changbin and Chan, Jeongin. Minho. Jisung's hands were sweating so much his phone was about to slip out of it. 

His shoes were untied. 

“Did something happen?” Felix asked again, just as they entered the cafeteria, the 6 other boys were seated at a table in the far back of the room. Minho was standing, but he was about to sit down, Jisung guessed at least. 

“No.” 

Jisung and Felix had undoubtedly been friends the longest, Felix was Jisung’s best friend. No question. Jisung tried to ignore it but it was apparent the lies were just as obvious to Felix as they were to Jisung. 

He was almost at the table when he stumbled. 

It was the shoelaces of course, untied and tangled around his ankles. 

As Jisung let out a “wah!” Felix tried to reach for him from just behind but another pair of hands caught him instead. Or well, caught and caught might be an overstatement. Jisung never really fell. 

Minho laid a firm hand on Jisung’s shoulder, just enough so that Jisung could stand his ground. The older looked at him worried, but never asked if he was okay, eventually he glanced down at the shoes. 

“Still won't tie them?” Minho shook his head, but didn't seem to expect an answer. Then he kneeled, did what he always did and tied the shoelaces into bows. 

“No. You do it for me anyway.” 

“I guess I do.” Minho looked up at Jisung smiling. 

Jisung felt his heart thump. But he liked seeing the older smile, and felt a smile on his own face form. Minho pretended like nothing had happened at all, Jisung was fairly shocked, and wasn't sure how he could. 

Of course, Minho had said he wanted to be friends, and Jisung had said he could do that. But it hadn’t even been 24 hours, yet the older seated himself by the table, waited for Jisung and Felix to do the same, he talked with everyone like this Monday was the exact same as every other one. He looked at Jisung with crescent eyes, laughed at something he said even with food in his mouth. Tied his shoes. Like it was any other day, like they were just friends. 

Jisung had to give himself a moment to put himself in _that_ mindset, it wasn’t wrong. To everyone else it was just another Monday, another week, Minho and Jisung were just friends. Nothing was out of the ordinary. 

Something inside him wanted to throw a tantrum, scream at Minho - how could he possibly behave like everything was _normal?_ It wasn’t. Jisung sweated and his eyes couldn’t meet the older properly. Minho slapped Jisung’s thigh while laughing, he always did, but this time when Jisung glanced down on his leg he could see the faint outline of Minho’s hand. Like he had been burned, branded. 

Minho didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong, so it wasn’t like Jisung was about to comment on it. 

Besides, even if it burned, it _felt good._ Jisung liked it. Frankly, he couldn’t get enough of Minho touching him, even if it was just the casual slap of his thigh or his finger accidentally dragging against Jisung when Minho rested it on the backrest of his chair. It was like sitting in front of a fire in the blistering cold, the flames will feel good, one would rather burn than to freeze to death. 

Jisung would rather have Minho behave like everything was normal, if it meant Jisung got to keep Minho close like this. Even if it hurt, he preferred it over going back to before he knew the older. Who else would tie his shoes and tell him to be careful? Who else would make Jisung’s heart beat so hard? 

Even on his way out of the cafeteria, when Jisung brushed a crumb from his pants, did he see the handprint on his leg. 

The eight went on their own ways, elective classes, thank god. Just about everyone but Felix and Jisung had different classes, so as soon as everyone was far gone, it wasn’t long until Felix once again squinted his eyes and studied Jisung from the side. 

“Something is wrong.” He said, a statement bold, but true. 

“No.” Jisung repeated.

Felix huffed. He wasn’t content with the answer. So when the two sat in class Felix inched closer every few minutes until he was close enough to whisper to Jisung.

“Tell me.” 

“I’m not gonna tell you.” Jisung answered, but never looked up from his paper. 

“So there is something wrong you aren’t telling me.” 

Jisung’s dark eyes turned to Felix, eyelids heavy and tired. With the tip of his pen he pushed Felix's head away from his. It left a black dot on his forehead, which blended in almost seamlessly with the millions of freckles on the boys’ face. Felix rubbed his forehead, which did nothing but smudging it. 

The freckled one continued to stare at him, didn’t even care about being discreet. 

“Okay. Fine. Treat me to tteokbokki after school and I’ll tell you.” Jisung finally gave in. 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah.”

“Fine.” Felix crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

Felix smiled at the waiter when he finally handed back his and Jisung’s menu, his canines flashed and his eyes almost closed. 

When the waiter had gone, Felix waited a few seconds until he leaned forward and rested his head in his hand. 

“So…”

“Won’t you let your date eat before you start interrogating me?” 

Felix groaned, sunk together in his chair, still he didn’t quite say anything. He knew Jisung wouldn’t open his mouth until he wanted to.

The two quickly grew tired of the silence, the two were already too used to it at home. So it wasn’t more than 10 seconds after the food came until they fell into conversation. Though Felix definitely waited for Jisung to spill his secret, he wasn’t one to rush it either. Felix liked to talk, Jisung liked to talk, so they did just that. 

Jisung coughed once. Slapped his hand over his chest once. 

“So.” 

Felix widened his eyes, stopped eating. 

“What can I say? Minho hyung shot me down.” Jisung avoided Felix’s eyes. 

Air of silence grew between. So thick one could cut it with a knife. 

“Huh?” It wasn't more than a sound when it left Felix's mouth. 

“Yup, like I was an enemy plane hovering over the city, shot me down. He doesn’t like me but he sure knows I like him. It was so embarrassing, he called me over and- and- basically said we can't be friends if I like him. So...I said I could be...just friends, then I left. I don't even think I was at his house for more than 2 minutes.” Jisung crossed his arms, his eyes found the wallpaper behind Felix weirdly fascinating. 

“But he-“ Felix began, but his voice trailed off.

“Acted like everything is fine today? Yeah, I mean isn’t it? I’m fine, 100%, I mean Minho hyung acts like everything is so I'm not gonna go around and act like it’s not.” 

“But it isn’t fine?” 

“It doesn’t...feel good. I actually thought...I kind of had a chance at him.” 

_“But I guess I’m just not pretty enough or funny enough or nice enough.”_

Jisung sighed. There were only a few mushrooms left on his plate, he used his chopstick to play with them. He felt stupid, he actually thought he had a chance. Perhaps he was naive, he could barely tell if Minho’s behavior towards him was different at all between him and his other friends. 

The two friends talked until the grey skies outside looked black, until the sun was nowhere to be seen and both of their parents had sent multiple messages asking when they were coming home. For a while Jisung was merely complaining about Minho, as if he tried to replace any romantic feelings with anger. For another while he listened closely as Felix both consoled him and tried his best to give him advice. In the end, the conversation had somehow moved far away from the subject of the older, onto things that felt easier to talk about, The hilarious mutual hate for their physics teacher, wonders when the first snow will arrive, worry for the upcoming history exam. 

The bus wasn’t far from the restaurant, Felix walked him there, but lived himself in the town center. Jisung was a stone’s throw from talking to himself at some point, but Felix was happily nodding along to whatever Jisung was talking about. 

“I’m not kidding his album release is gonna be huge!” 

Jisung turned around with a beaming smile, throwing his hands in the air. Knowing the nature of Jisung, it wasn’t much of a smart move, seeing as his line of sight was no longer in the direction he was going. A mere 30 seconds into it he had already stumbled over an uneven stone tile on the ground, and was inches away from walking straight into a pole. 

He caressed his elbow, which had unfortunately taken the hit into the pole instead of his head. The flow of electric pain was still shooting through his body. 

“Ah your bus is coming.” Felix said, Jisung turned around and dug into his pocket to find his metrocard. Before the bus could drive up to him he turned around, albeit a bit reluctantly.

“Uh, do I need to thank you? For forcing me to talk to someone?” 

Felix slapped him on the back of his head. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you just need to learn that we actually listen to your problems if you have them. Again, if you feel like you can’t be around hyung, just tell me. Okay?” 

“Mhm.” Jisung’s lips pressed into a firm line. He nodded, touched the scalp where Felix had slapped him with his fingers. Not that it hurt. 

Jisung could spot the freckles on Felix’s face even through the dirty bus window, they were quite unique, Jisung had never met someone with as many freckles as Felix. When he was younger Felix forced himself to eat lemons until he was sick, because he had heard they could rid the freckles, then he begged his mother to buy him something to cover them with. It was years until he could wear them with pride, it looked good on Felix. Pride. Confidence. 

Felix smiled at Jisung, and when the bus began speeding up the friend continued to walk. Jisung followed him with his eyes as long as he was able to do so. 

A part of Jisung wished, truly, that he could tell Felix that he could never be with Minho again, ever. Another part of Jisung knew that he could never be without him, ever. That part of Jisung grew, unfortunately, with every passing second. Even if it was suffocating, even if it hurt himself, even if he knew a part of him would die every time he saw Minho. 

It was addicting. Minho was addicting to be around. 

That’s why Jisung met Minho the next morning with big black and _untied_ shoes on his feet. He knew the older would tie them for him, then he would wrap his arm around his shoulder and walk through the corridors like they were just friends. Jisung wouldn’t complain, he was too addicted, even if it hurt. 

Just like how Minho was addicting to Jisung, the younger knew Minho was addicted to the few compliments Jisung sometimes gave him. Whenever Jisung told Minho that he was “the best”, or when Jisung mumbled that ”you are very pretty I think” his pupils dilated and eyes widened like he was obsessed with it. 

Jisung pretended in his head that Minho liked him. It was too addicting having him close. 

Minho pretended Jisung’s compliments were merely friendly. It was too addicting to stop them anyway, they made him feel too good.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back again and this time im a hot mess I'm sorry, up until this point I've held a pretty consistent schedule w this by u know posting like once a week but I've walked straight into a wall and I have a hard time planning out the last few chapters properly, so I HOPE I can get that done like, today or tomorrow, hopefully. so that I can get on with properly writing the next chapter bc I am honestly a bit lost rn and IM WRITING THIS LIKE????? need to get my shit together
> 
> anyway
> 
> thank you for reading, kudos and comments always appreciated, love yall <333
> 
> stay safe!


	7. I Wear a Heart On My Sleeve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW / brief mentions of blood (and bruises too? idk if that is a trigger) it's nothing more than a mere mention, the brief description begins with "(...) that sent bolts of pain wherever Jisung touched it.", to be sure I'd be careful about the next few paragraphs, and once you see "Minho was in the middle of a breath, (...)" it should be safe to continue reading. If anyone would like me to be more clear or so pls comment.

Jisung fell back in his chair. Hid his face in his hands and groaned out loud. 

3 pairs of eyes turned to him, watched as Jisung threw a silent tantrum, stomped on the floor below his desk with his shoes and let out a sound of frustrated agony. The three friends sitting at their desks all held a few pieces of paper in their hands, the same pieces of paper that laid flat on Jisung’s desk. Well there were a few differences, for example, the names on top of the paper, a few (a lot) of the answers, the contrast between the red numbers in the bottom corner of the front page. 

Felix’s 88, Seungmin’s 94, Hyunjin’s 90 - Jisung’s 61. 

Jisung hadn’t done this bad on a test for the entire school year, though he definitely wasn’t as good as Seungmin, he had been averaging the lower 80’s the entire year, in History he had even touched percentages as high as 90, even if it was only once. 

He had walked into the test last week, completely unaware that his teacher had announced it a week prior, he didn’t know what had happened in his mind for him to completely forget about the test. It wasn’t a big one, sure, but it was one that would definitely affect his grade. 

Felix looked at him concerned, glanced in between him and the paper on his desk. Afraid Jisung would break down crying. The commotion of the class drowned out the absolute misery that was going on around Jisung’s desk. When class eventually came to an end, students all stood up and began leaving the classroom, everyone but Jisung. 

“Mr. Kim. Please, you- you have to let me retake it. I can’t do this- I don’t know why I did so bad.” 

Jisung’s teacher looked down on him, He was tall and handsome, definitely one of few teachers in the school that was the most sympathetic, if Jisung had any chance of retaking his test, it was in history, it was in Mr. Kim’s class. 

The teacher looked at him, with even more pity than what Jisung had seen on anyone’s face before. 

“I forgot...about the test, Mr. Kim...if you just let me retake it, I’ll do much better. I'm sorry.” 

“It’s okay Mr. Han. I know you have done really well on all other tests, especially considering your grades last year. I usually don’t do-” Mr. Kim stopped in the middle of his sentence to pack his bag. Jisung grew impatient, his hands were sweaty. “I usually don’t let students retake tests unless they have a good reason.”

Jisung gulped. 

“Your reason is fine, on Monday after school. 5PM.” 

Jisung nodded frantically, bowed, and thanked him, something about it felt eerily familiar. He recounted the conversation he had had with his chemistry teacher just a few months back. Something was weirdly embarrassing about having to have this conversation multiple times with multiple teachers, and something inside Jisung told him this wouldn’t be the last time either. 

He looked down at the clock on his phone, when he saw none of his friends outside the classroom he assumed they had gone to the cafeteria. Sure enough, they sat around the table, 7 familiar faces. Jisung slipped in between Hyunjin and Minho. 

“Heard you fucked up on your test.” Minho teased him. 

“Hyung-” Jisung whined and leaned into his side, waiting for the older to comfort him. 

Which he did, expected nothing but it. Minho wrapped his arm around Jisung’s shoulder and dug his finger into the frail skin underneath the t-shirt. 

Minho and Jisung were friends, really close ones too. Had grown closer than one would expect. Grown closer than Jisung expected. 

A month ago Minho told Jisung they couldn’t be friends if Jisung had a crush on him, it was a bit cruel, but a part of Jisung understood him. Even if he didn’t want to. The two agreed that they could be friends, a promise that seemed somewhat impossible. 

But they were friends now, really good friends even. Jisung spent more time with Minho than what he had before. Many nights during the weekend, many evenings after school. Sometimes Minho visited Jisung when he was at work, so much, if he did it one more time Jisung might just get fired from being so distracted. But it was okay, they were friends. Better friends than ever. 

At least you could pretend they were. 

“I fucked up so bad.” Jisung rested his head on Minho’s shoulder, fake cried. 

“Mr. Kim is letting you retake it right? He’s too nice to not let you.” Seungmin asked. 

“Yeah, Monday after school.” Jisung lifted himself off of Minho and pulled his lunch box out of his bag, the semi crumpled up test was stuffed in there. 

For a minute they continued to eat in silence. Well as silent it could get. Seungmin and Jeongin were bickering about something, but it was as if they were in their own world. Chan and Changbin mumbled like they were afraid people would hear them, despite being quite loud when talking. Jisung heard it was something about a party. Felix was giggling trying to show Hyunjin something on his phone, barely able to talk between laughs. 

So in reality it was really just Minho and Jisung that were silent. 

“Do you need help studying for it? What was it, history?” Minho leaned close to Jisung and whispered. Not that it was a secret the older often helped him with studies. 

Jisung nodded, tapped the table a few times while thinking. 

“Tomorrow after school?” 

“Sounds good.” 

The younger kicked small stones on his way home, some of them were covered in snow. It had finally come, snow to be specific. It was over in a heartbeat and quite depressing, just laid itself like a thin blanket over grass, wherever there were cars or pavement, it melted, only to be mistaken by rain. Jisung had looked forward to snow, just a little bit, but he hated the cold.

Absolutely resented it. Every year he forgot to buy gloves or proper shoes, so he walked around with his hands freezing even deep in his pockets. Slipping around on the ice because of the flat converse. Not to mention the temperature, truly torturous. The dark was suffocating, the snow did nothing but make his bus late. 

Yet, there was something fascinating about winter, or dreamy. He could have been influenced by something as silly as Frozen, he had watched it with his baby cousin when it came out. Whether it was that or whatever dreamscape he had made it out to be in his head, since then Jisung has had a weird obsession with winter. Everything about winter and Christmas was so good in theory. Sitting in front of a fireplace with hot cocoa, watching cheesy hallmark movies, and giving gifts. Fairylights everywhere and shining ornaments. Snowball fights and warm hugs. Kisses underneath mistletoes. 

Yeah, there was a _lot_ Jisung loved about winter. But he just hated the cold, the sad grey-ish piles of snow by the side of the road, deathly slippery ice. Besides, he never got hot cocoa or snowball fights _or_ kisses. 

“I’m home.” Jisung shouted out when he came through the door. Slipping his backpack off and dropping it on the floor. No one answered him, so he shrugged his shoulders and went to his room. 

It was a while until he felt the faint scent of food waft through the door. It was good, too good, distracting him from studying after just a few seconds. 

“What’s for dinner mo- dad? Where is mom?” He asked, met with the sight of his father cooking. It wasn't that his father was bad at cooking, it was just unusual for him to do so. 

“Your mother will be home for dinner, she is with a few girlfriends.” 

Jisung “ah-ed” and escaped into his room again, tried to ignore the scent, even if it was hard. Tried to ignore the amazing sight of the bright red spicy food his father was cooking. The daydreaming was interrupted by his door opening. It wasn’t in the orderly fashion, as if it was his brother opening it to say something or his father peeking in from the door being ajar. 

It was almost violent. 

“What is this?” 

Jisung turned around in his chair, slipped his headphones off his ears. Met with eyes darker than Jisung’s could ever be. Furious wasn’t the correct emotion, Jisung couldn’t place it exactly. It was though, obviously not good. Especially not when the expression was on his mother. 

“I asked, what is this?” 

She held a piece of paper in her hand, the first page of his test marked with a bright red 61. 

“I’m retaking it. It won’t affect my grade.” Jisung avoided the question as much as he could. 

“Why is your grade so low? This is as close as you can get to fail.” 

Jisung couldn’t tell the truth- What? That he forgot about the test? He was speechless. 

“This isn’t acceptable Jisung. What happened to you? What went w-” _“What went wrong with you? Your brother is so intelligent”_ was what she wanted to say, but Jisung's father grabbed her shoulder lightly, as if he tried to stop her screaming. 

“Mom, Mr. Kim is letting me retake the test, I’m studying. Minho hyung is helping me tomorrow too.” He did his best defending himself, but the excuses fell flat, at least under his mother's rage. 

She sneered. “With how much time you are spending with that boy one would think his good qualities would rub off on you. I see that has not happened yet.” 

“Eunjung…” His father whispered, it was weird hearing him say her name. 

“No!” She slapped his hand away from her shoulder. “We need to teach him a lesson, we can’t accept laziness like this. Bring home another score this low and we’ll see what we have to do about you.” 

“Mom-” Jisung gritted through his teeth.

Nothing was going through her, it was obvious. 

Dinner was quiet, much more than usual. The Han family must have invented a new sort of silence that night, so silent it drowned out all other sounds, left nothing but a mere ringing in everyone’s ears. 

Jisung sat on his desk chair after dinner in silence, chewed marks into his pencil as he tried to study, futile as it was. Jisung's brother left in the evening, told their parents he was meeting friends. Whether it was true or not one could question, but that he did whatever he could to escape the household was apparent.

Their parents fell asleep with backs facing each other, a sour argument boiling underneath their skin. 

They may have kissed each other on the forehead in the morning, but both knew deep down the relationship would never be as it was when they met.

“I fucking hate them.” Jisung swore at his parents, Minho looked at him from the side. 

“No you don’t.” 

“I do.” 

“Don’t say you hate your parents, I’m not saying what they- your mother said was okay...but they love you, so don’t say you hate them.” Minho was serious, even Jisung’s furrowed eyebrows relaxed. 

_“You never know when they will leave you.”_ The older one let himself think, but he didn't utter it out loud. 

Snow had fallen over the night. Laid a proper blanket of white over the ground. It had not melted yet. Jisung found it quite beautiful, especially where it was completely untouched. Made him fall in love with winter all over again. 

“I don’t...hate them, but I’m tired of my mom acting like I'm a fucking idiot.” Jisung clenched his fists so hard they turned white. 

“You aren’t an idiot. You know that right?” Minho asked, but Jisung never answered. 

Minho grabbed his hand. It was gentle and big around his own. Jisung tightened his grip around it. Minho's hands were nice, warm, and comforting, he couldn’t let go even if he tried. 

Minho's hand flayed when Jisung threw around his. He was still frustrated, even if he had quieted down significantly on their way from the bus home to Minho. 

The younger let out a frustrated groan. His fingers slipped out of Minho's hold, the older looked down on it and felt the familiar sense of emptiness. Jisung lunged 2 steps forward, gathered power in a kick, and aimed straight for a rock in the sidewalk. 

A rock hidden under a blanket of snow, a rock frozen solid to the ground. A rock who caused Jisung to stumble forward in the midst of his tantrum. 

_“Hyung-“_

Jisung barely had the time to think it, much less say it out loud. Though he would like to think he heard a faint “Jisung” from Minho. 

There were a lot of things hidden underneath the snow, for example the rock he stumbled on, the glass-like gravel that tore his palms when he caught himself, the cold and hard pavement that sent bolts of pain wherever Jisung touched it. 

Jisung must have flown two or three meters, and as soon as he had fallen he did his best to sit up on his knees. He looked down on the palms of his hands, crimson red and painful to just look at. Jisung could spot small specks of brown and black, probably residue from small gravel and dirt. 

“Jisung- Jisungie! Let me see that.” Minho's voice cracked. 

Minho crouched down next to him, grabbed his wrists. Small droplets of blood ran down Jisung’s hands, soaking the hems of his jacket and staining Minho's fingers where he touched Jisung's wrists. 

“How did you manage to- do that?” He asked.

“I- the stone- uh...didn’t move?” Jisung seemed to be as confused as Minho. 

"I think my aunt is home, she can look at it and clean the- the- yeah.” Minho brushed a stone away from Jisung’s palm, it left a streak of red on the older one's thumb. 

Minho draped Jisung’s arm over his shoulders when he noticed the younger one’s knees seemed too hurt and limp, of course, they probably did. He helped Jisung as much as he could, all the way from the sidewalk where he had fallen up to the door where Minho lived. 

“Auntie? Auntie are you home?” 

A quick sweep of the house and the lack of response was answer enough to say she wasn’t home. Minho paced around the room wondering what to do. He was a careful child, barely ever hurt himself or fell around. Of course his aunt was weirdly overprotective too, not to mention his younger cautious self. He had never broken anything and could probably count the number of scars on his body on one hand. 

Jisung tried to calm him down, even if he himself was the one beaten black and blue. 

“It’s okay I’ll just rinse it under water, it’s fine then.”

“No no- no, you need to clean it properly Jisungie, don’t you see how dirty it is? Sit, please sit.” Minho stirred and finally found his calm in the first aid kit. 

Jisung hissed and tried to pull his hands away when Minho patted the area around his palms with alcohol, the area was sore and pink when Minho wrapped a bandage over the hands.

“You _need_ to be more careful, I can’t take it when you are so reckless Jisungie.” Minho whispered while tightening the bandage. 

“I’m not reckless, I'm just clumsy.” Jisung mumbled.

Minho was in the middle of a breath, prepared to say something when he glanced up, caught a pair of longing eyes on him. Dark brown with a hint of glimmer. Minho’s breath hitched, he forgot what words were on the tip of his tongue. 

“You came here to study didn’t you?” Minho held Jisung's hand when the younger stood up. 

“Yeah-yeah of course. Um I prepared flashcards yesterday.” 

“Ohh you are ready aren’t you?” 

He nodded and smiled, pulled out the stack of cards from his backpack once they got to Minho's bedroom. 

Minho on his bed, Jisung on his desktop chair. Minho asked about terms and years, dates, and people he barely knew about himself. 

“Why did you even flunk, you basically know everything?” The older one asked, bored with staring at Jisung’s messy handwriting. 

“I- uh...forgot about the test completely so I wasn’t prepared. I got nervous and my brain just shut off. I don't even think I answered any questions on the last page.” 

“Jesus christ, what’s got you that distracted?” 

Jisung laughed and scratched his head, eventually let out a sound of confusion, to say that he didn’t know either. What was there to say really? That he had met Minho right after the history class in which his teacher announced it, and entranced by the other forgot all about it. That his ears must have ignored everything anyone mentioned about it, they were too biased towards anything concerning Minho. Frankly, he rarely paid proper attention, unless it was Minho he could give said attention to. 

In the silence, Jisung stood up and stretched, a few dull cracks from his back echoed, causing the older to scoff and ask mindlessly if he was a glow stick. Something Jisung didn’t answer to. 

He walked to the bed where Minho rested and pushed him into the corner, so that the older laid close to the wall. Jisung felt the sore knees ache when they came in contact with Minho’s soft mattress. He winced, just enough so that Minho could react and sit up. 

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Jisung sat down next to him, pulled his knees to his chest and pressed his lips into a firm line. 

“Mhm,” Jisung began folding up his pants, the fabric was soft enough, and the pants were large enough to do so. On his knees there were purple bruises painted on like a canvas. Minho's eyes widened when he saw them, like he had never seen anyone hurt before. 

“You don’t look okay.”

The older one's fingers moved towards the knees, but seemed to hesitate multiple times on the way, like Minho wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch Jisung. When the fingertips made contact, Jisung laid his hand over Minho's. Led the delicate fingers from one bruise to another.

“I’m okay. You patched me up so nicely.” 

“I guess I did, my aunt must have taught me.” 

“She teach you a lot of things?” 

Their voices were so low they probably wouldn’t have heard each other it if they sat just a few centimeters further away. 

“Everything I know.” 

“What about your parents?” Jisung asked, turned his head, and realized his face was just centimeters away from Minho's. Jisung could smell Minho's cologne. Fresh cotton, sea breeze, something. Jisung couldn’t place it. 

“I don't think my parents have taught me anything, well, maybe trust issues.” Minho scoffed. 

“Oh-“ 

Tension formed, like they stopped breathing and it stripped the room of any air. 

“I know you didn’t mean any harm, only like, my closest friends know about them, you know Chan and Changbin and Jeongin. It’s only fair you know too.”

“I can’t remember anything of them, I just know...they didn’t want me. I guess. Didn’t love me enough to take care of me, comfort me after nightmares. Didn’t love me enough to be my parents.”

“It’s nothing big, I don’t know them. They left me, uh, to my aunt, let her get guardianship. Then they… _vanished_ to put it simply. ” 

“Haven’t seen them since they dropped me off for a weekend with “ _mom’s fun sister”_ and I doubt anyone in my family has, except maybe a court hearing or two, years ago. Doubt I’ll ever see them again. I asked my aunt if she had met them since, wanted to see them. She told me she would rather eat glass than ever meet them again.” 

“I don't like calling them my parents, it feels dumb. I’m sorry. They did nothing but birth me. My aunt is my family, she is the only one who will ever love me I think.” 

A lonely tear may have formed in one of Minho's eyes, but he dried it off with the hem of his shirt before anyone could see it. See that Minho was hurt. See that something broke every time Minho reminded himself that there were two people somewhere in the world that didn’t love him. Two people whose love Minho craved so much he’d do anything for it. It a brutal feeling Minho didn't want to feel. 

Jisung couldn’t say anything, nothing was appropriate to say really. So he dived forward and wrapped his arms around Minho's neck. Felt Minho's heartbeat through his chest, it was beating in sync with his own. 

Minho's hands eventually found themself around Jisung’s back, slightly limp and tired. Jisung’s skin was warm and secure. 

He sunk up against the wall, leaned backward until his back laid flat against his mattress, He took Jisung down with him. 

The younger ones head resting on Minho's chest. His arms around Minho's neck. Jisung’s heart wasn’t on his sleeve, as one would think. No, it was on Minho's sleeve. Too obvious for them to mention it. 

If Jisung just tilted Minho's chin downwards he could kiss him.

But he couldn’t, they were just friends. 

Minho’s hands rubbed circles on Jisung’s back, then the fingers traveled up and down his spine. Accidentally touched the skin on his hips, where the shirt had ridden up. Minho could practically see wherever his fingers touched, as if it burned fires on the younger one’s skin. Branded him. 

If Minho just tilted Jisung’s chin upwards he could kiss him. 

But he couldn’t, they were just friends. 

A door opened and shut in the distance, a woman called out for Minho. His aunt, of course, heavy footsteps neared Minho’s door. They didn’t do anything wrong, nor something that wasn’t normal. It was just a hug. Yet, when they heard her outside the door, knocking, both flew out of the hold, sat on the bed as far away as they could. Smiled at her when she opened the door. 

She took a glance at the two young boys, then at the white bandages on Jisung’s hands. 

“Honey are you okay?” She asked, took a few steps towards them and waited for Jisung to make it clear she was allowed to look at his hands. 

“I fell, but it’s okay. Minho hyung patched me up nicely.”

Jisung smiled at her too, Minho noticed Jisung often flashed his gums when he smiled. His top lip folded in, formed his mouth into a heart. It was quite...addicting, especially when Jisung smiled at him. Intoxicating to look at. 

The three of them ate dinner together, Jisung liked Minho’s aunts cooking very much, but he liked it better that dinner was never quiet. They talked and they laughed, Minho’s aunt shared anecdotes and she revealed embarrassing stories about Minho’s childhood. Minho flashed red and let out a strained “Hey!” after every single one. 

If it was possible, Jisung wanted to spend every single dinner here. But more often than not, he had to return to the quiet Han household, where the TV was on and rumbled with sound, where pages of a book were turned. Where music blasted from the room next to Jisung's. 

A house that was, despite all this, very quiet. 

Jisung had to go, he collected his things from Minho's room. Pulled on a hoodie Minho lent him to protect him from the cold. 

“Where is your mirror, it was so perfect to take pictures in? The way the sun hit me from behind was ethereal.”

“The nail was loose, it fell on the floor and broke.” 

The younger one's mouth formed into an ”o", Minho followed him to the door. Tied Jisung’s shoes and asked him to be careful, made him promise to not slip on ice, or try to kick frozen rocks again. They hugged, just for a second. 

If Jisung just stood on his toes, he’d probably be able to kiss Minho. Right on his lips. That’s why he tiptoed a bit so his face would be level with the older one. He almost kissed him, but Minho stepped out of the hug and cleared his throat. 

“I hope you’ll ace the test.” 

“Def-definitely. Thank you hyung. For helping me.” Jisung stuttered over his own words. 

“That’s what, _friends_ do…? Right?” Minho smiled, but it was _almost_ awkward. 

“Absolutely. _Friends._ ” Jisung nodded. 

Jisung left, the sky was dark, but it was free from clouds. He could spot stars spread far into the horizon. 

The house was quiet when he arrived home late, except for the noisy TV and the never-ending pages being turned. The god awful bad music his brother had on repeat. But it was quiet. 

So quiet Jisung could hear his thoughts loud and clear, asking him why he thought Minho would kiss him back. Minho _obviously_ thought of Jisung as a friend, a close one perhaps, but just as a friend. 

He fell asleep with furrowed eyebrows, still walking through the day in his head as if it was a riddle he had to solve. Never in his life had been so close to Minho. The older one’s arms around him and a heart beating against his. Lips too close to his own and caressing that Jisung couldn’t help but feel was romantic. 

In Minho’s room the absent mirror was still obvious, but he caught reflections wherever he looked. In the dark windows, in the camera on his phone, the picture frame on his bedside table. Whenever he caught it, it whispered things Minho wanted to ignore. 

“Do you like him? Ah you do...don’t you…” 

“Does he like you though? He’s probably just looking for a sad distraction. You are easy meat.” 

“You wanted him to like you so bad, and now that you like him? Oh ho ho, you can’t stand it? I know you aren't sick of the attention, it's the only thing keeping you going."

There wasn't a mirror to break, so he turned off the lights, and stared at the matte ceiling where nothing could reflect, stared at it until he fell asleep. The voice he couldn’t drown out quieted down when Minho passed the threshold to dreamland. But the one who met him there was none other than Jisung. 

Sweet and with heart-shaped lips, hugs that felt warm and secure. Love Minho couldn’t get enough of. Both wore hearts on their sleeves, hearts neither one of them wanted to mention. Wouldn't it be awkward for friends to do so? 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked how this chapter turned out uwu I hope yall liked it too <3 for the reader who follows this every update. I have made a solid plan on how this will be followed up and how it will end. I am unsure if it's gonna be two more chapters, or three more - with the last two split up into two shorter ones, I'll figure it out depending on how the flow of my work is going. anyways next chapter will prolly b a ride, so woo b excited for that. or don't. lower your expectations so it won't accidentally disappoint you. 
> 
> also idk why but the more chapters I write the longer they get like man I have this need to keep it more consistent BUT I CANT bc when I have flow I have flow and I don't like cutting the chapters abruptly or whatever idk how to express it lmfao. anyway either the next chapter is gonna end up with 2k words or like 7k no in between
> 
> anyway, thank you for reading, really. 
> 
> kudos and comments always appreciated <33  
> stay safe!!!


	8. An Accident Bound to Happen

Minho held his breath, looked to his right to see Changbin holding his hand over his mouth, muffling laughter. On his right Seungmin fumbled with his phone in a haste. 

“Say cheese” Minho smiled through the words, held up his own phone, and positioned it in front of Jisung’s face. 

Jisung, unaware of what was happening around him. Jisung who unfortunately fell asleep in the library. Jisung, whose friends knew he wouldn’t even feel it when they drew a wonky mustache above his lip. Nor would he wake up in midst of the laughter and giggles or the clicks of photos being taken. 

What startled him awake was the flash of Seungmin’s camera. 

At first, he just fluttered with his eyelashes, slowly blinking awake. Jisung looked confused, especially considering he was met with 3 faces close to his own, all of whom were near tears with laughter. He grunted and rubbed his eyes. 

“What?” 

None of his friends answered, but Seungmin laid his phone flat on the table and slid it over. 

To Jisung’s own horror, when he picked it up and looked at it he was met with his own face. Seungmin had opened his camera. Jisung held the phone close to his nose, then he looked up at his friends. 

The school librarian; Mrs. Jung, had probably been there since the school opened, Jisung was fully convinced she might have been here long before that. Everyone knew she was snarky and conservative, believed in rules and order. Seungmin, Minho, and Changbin knew this too, which is why they felt so confident doing this too Jisung here. He couldn’t scream at them, even a slap to their necks would be considered too loud for this library. 

Jisung threw Seungmin’s phone back to him, held his hand over the bottom half of his face. 

“What did you do-” He dragged out the “o” for so long it sounded a bit eerie. Jisung rubbed and tried to dry off the marker from his face. 

“Now I look like an idiot.” He whined through the whisper, afraid Mrs. Jung would come around a corner and personally drag him out of the library for being too loud. 

“You mean to tell us you didn’t already?” Seungmin asked, his eyebrows raised in the kind of way Jisung couldn’t stand. 

Jisung rose from his chair and marched out of the library, hand covering his face and ears burning red in faint embarrassment. He heard low snickers and footsteps behind him outside the bathroom, after a quick look back he noticed Minho trailing after him. 

“Hyung- how could you?” Jisung wailed inside the bathroom, Minho still chuckled a bit when Jisung wet a paper napkin and used it to wash the marker off. 

“Come on, admit it was a bit funny.” 

Minho took the wet napkin from Jisung’s hand, the younger one’s cheeks and ears had turned bright red, while the mustache had at least started fading. With one hand Minho held Jisung’s chin, and with the other, he rubbed above Jisung’s lip with the paper. It only took a minute or two in silence for the black marker to be completely removed. 

“See, whiteboard marker washes off like a charm.” Jisung turned to the mirror, while there was a faint grey residue, someone who didn’t know it used to be a black mustache wouldn't notice it. 

“I can’t believe you did this to me.” 

“It’s funny.” 

“My favorite hyung in the entire world betrayed me, how can I continue like this now?” 

He closed his eyes and pretended to be hurt, grabbed his chest and fake cried. Unsure about the older’s reaction he opened one of his eyes, just a bit, he saw that the other had an amused expression. 

“Well your favorite hyung regrets nothing actually, he got so many pretty pictures of you.” 

Jisung widened his eyes, slipped around Minho to get his phone out of his pocket. Minho was quicker than him, and raised the phone far above his head. Jisung, who was unfortunately much shorter, did his most to reach it but had to accept his defeat in the end.

“Do you want to see me die?” Jisung rested his head on Minho’s chest, punched his open palm once against it as to say “I hate you” half-heartedly. 

After confirming once more that the mustache was indeed gone, as if it would have reappeared in the minutes they spent in there, they left. 

On the way back to the library, where Seungmin and Changbin still sat and studied; it seemed Jisung was stuck in his head, he stared at his feet, stared at the big bulky black shoes. They had become a bit worn out, despite Jisung only owning them for a couple of months. They were tied today at least, which was, maybe the bare minimum. 

“Hey hyung?”

“Mhm that’s me.” 

“Are you going to that...party Changbin invited us too?”

“Are you?”

“If you go I might consider it.” Jisung admitted. 

“Well,3 I’ll go if you want.” 

Jisung nodded, but realized when they reached the doors to the library, that he wasn’t sure if it was a confirmation. So he stopped before he pushed the doors open. 

“Are we going?” He had to ask, looked up at Minho for the first time since he left the bathroom. 

“I think it could be fun.” Minho said. 

So he smiled, and trusted the older one's judgment. Yeah. They would probably have fun. Just, Jisung and Minho surrounded by loud music and students reeking of sweat and alcohol. Two friends, who presumably would be attached to the hip the entire night, because they were friends. Good friends. 

Really good friends who wore hearts on their sleeves and smiles on their faces. 

Jisung was used to hiding the bronze makeup packaging from his parents and brother, lately he had been even more careful not to tick his mother off. She had been cold and distant since he came home with the _nearly_ failed history test and had only started warming up again after he came home with the retaken one (which he scored an 87 on. Jisung was unsure if she was proud, but she did crack a smile). Nevertheless, if his mother caught him applying makeup before going to a party it was probably only a matter of time until she gave him the silent treatment again. 

He couldn’t do anything _too_ much, it was just a normal party. Maybe some smudged brown eyeliner, a dark terracotta shade on his eyelids perhaps, just enough to accentuate his eyes. He had hurried to buy a see-through gloss on his way home from Felix one day, it had just _enough_ glitter in it to make him excited. Besides, it was strawberry flavored. 

“Hey I’m going now.” He shouted into the living room, hurrying not to let his parents see him. His father waved him goodbye from the couch and told him to be safe, that they would see each other tomorrow. They didn’t know he was going to a party, they thought he was spending the night with Minho. 

The two parents were ever so aware of their son's clumsy demeanor, and in the middle of winter accidents were bound to happen. At least if it was Jisung. His mother threw him a glance from above the newspaper she was reading at the dinner table. 

“Be careful.” She mumbled. 

Jisung tied his shoes, before leaving he straightened his back. “I will be.” He promised. 

It’s Jisung we are talking about, if he isn’t careful, accidents are bound to happen. 

He was knocking carefully at Minho’s door, afraid he was maybe early. It was just after 6, while he definitely thought he was one of the first ones there, it suddenly felt embarrassing to be there alone with Minho. It wasn’t reasonable, but Jisung couldn’t help but have his mind wander to the absolute worst places. And, for the first time since Jisung had met Minho, he was _very_ dressed up. 

It wasn’t unusual to see Jisung in sweatpants and t-shirts on a normal day of school. Simple black jeans and a hoodie were to go and beanies were a frequent accessory in his closet. Not always because he himself thought he actually looked good in them, but because it spared him time in the morning when he didn’t have time to care about his hair. 

The black leather pants were high waisted and tighter than what he preferred, the wine red button-up shirt was tightened at his waist with a black belt he stole from his brother. It wasn’t very visible from underneath the fluffy faux fur jacket. Especially not in the dark. He wore his normal black converse, despite the cold, and despite the fact that he usually felt embarrassingly short in them. But today was okay. 

He met with Minho’s eyes when the older one opened the door. Jisung wasn’t sure if he should take it with offense or as a humble compliment that Minho almost literally _dropped_ his jaw to the floor.

“Hi…?” Jisung, asked, rather than greeted the older. He felt too observed, was almost ashamed. 

“Hi! I’m sorry, you are the first one here I haven’t gotten ready yet.” Minho waved his hand, and stepped aside to let Jisung come in. “You look good though.” He said again, before Jisung had time to answer. 

The two stepped into the living room, Minho apologized again for not being ready, and told Jisung the others would probably pop in one after one around 7 PM. Minho’s aunt wasn’t home, she worked the night shift, which meant Minho’s house was the ideal place for pregame completely undisturbed. 

While Jisung had to make himself at home on Minho’s couch, the older disappeared into his room to dress and fix his hair. 

“Isn’t it rude to let your guest wait like this hyung?” Jisung asked, when Minho was halfway through the door into his room. 

“You aren’t even a guest at this point Jisungie.” Minho was snarky, he disappeared and Jisung didn’t see a sight of him for probably half an hour. He heard Minho turn on and off a blow dryer multiple times, and if he was honest with himself, he was itching to see what Minho looked like. 

Jisung always found Minho attractive, even when he wore clothes as simple as chinos and college sweaters. Before Jisung knew Minho personally, way back when Jisung was in 9th grade and Minho in 10th. The older was _obviously_ going through a phase, Jisung used to see him with a leather jacket almost every day, paired with the red hair. It was a good fit for him, but Jisung _did_ prefer the style he had now. Laidback and casual, yet always dressed up. 

A knock echoed on the other side of the entrance door, it seemed Minho didn’t react even after the second set of knocks, so Jisung took the initiative to open. 

Chan and Changbin stood on the other side of the door, two bags in hand with clinking bottles in them. They seemed surprised to find the younger inside and not Minho. 

“Oh- you look good.” Chan said.

“You too, uh...hyung is changing so that is why I...opened the door.” 

Changbin glanced at Chan, then he shrugged, the older ones probably didn’t care much. The three walked to the kitchen and began piling up drinks and soda on the counter. The three got into talking, and after a few minutes, the door shook again with knocks. With no indication that Minho had even noticed that anyone was here besides Jisung, he once again slipped away from the kitchen and opened the door. 

It was the four remaining boys, dressed up, everyone as handsome as the other, and honestly, it seemed they had already had some sort of pregame. All blushing pink and giggly. 

With the chaos of the seven in the kitchen, trying to find cups they could drink out of without risking breaking anything, loud chatter and Chan wanting to put on music, the older one finally came out of his room. 

Jisung couldn’t even find words to describe how _good_ Minho looked. Not to mention his natural beauty, the turquoise velvet shirt was tight over his upper body, but the sleeves were loose, like bishop sleeves. Jisung had never seen a shirt like this, it somehow felt like it had never existed until Minho was the one wearing it. The pants were simply black and ripped, but they didn’t look like Felix’s black jeans, somehow, Jisung found it significantly more attractive when Minho wore them.

“I see everyone welcomed themself in. Plastic cups are on the top shelf in the cupboard.” Chan nodded and turned around to grab them. “Jisungie help me with this-''

Minho had been fiddling with a black necklace in his hand, he handed it to Jisung and turned around. 

Jisung noticed his hands were shaking when he tried his best to close the necklace, or well, the choker. He didn’t realize it was one until it wrapped tight around Minho’s neck. 

“Is it okay?” He asked the older, who nodded. Jisung could once again feel the faint scent of his cologne. Took a deep breath on accident. 

It was a minute until he managed to close it, Minho turned back around. Jisung saw that the older had attached two white stones in the inner eye corners, it made the catlike eyes more noticeable. He wore an earring on his right side and two on his left, they were all white diamonds. 

Fingers were clad in rings, almost on every single one, if not more on some on them. 

“Okay, are we getting to it then?” Minho asked, he cracked his knuckles so to say he was ready for what was to come. 

The eight all poured a glass each, mixtures of all kinds of different things. Jisung’s drink was neon green and tasted bitter, Minho cracked a beer for himself. To his own horror, he watched Seungmin pour a spoonful of everything on the table into his cup, before stirring it with his finger. Honestly, Jisung wanted to audibly convey his disgust. 

Minho must have been the soberest, after an hour Felix and Hyunjin danced hand in hand around Minho’s dinner table with bright pink cheeks. Seungmin and Jeongin had been engulfed in a sickly intimate conversation in between sips of their drinks. 

“57 minutes and 30 seconds.” Minho whispered into Jisung’s ear, motioning to Chan, who after drinking the remainders of his cups, hit his chest a few times. “He’s now officially drunk.” The older whispered again, which made Jisung cover his mouth to hide a giggle. 

Changbin shook his wrist and looked at the watch on his wrist, the older was, like most of them, flushed slightly red. Though, he was along with Minho and Jisung, perhaps part of the more sober ones. 

“We should get going soon, I promised Jiwoo we’d be there around 9.” He said, leaned his head back and took a deep breath. 

“You like her?” Chan smirked, mostly teasing. 

“Jiwoo?” Changbin looked confused, then he leaned closer to his friend. “Chan. She’s a lesbian.”

The four who were semi engaged in the conversation broke out in laughter. Why they didn’t know, but who had complete control with alcohol buzzing in their system? At this point, one of them would have gotten the same reaction from saying just about anything. 

“Alright,” Minho stood up and clapped his hands to draw attention to myself. “Everyone get ready to go, I’m just gonna clean up a bit so my aunt doesn't kick my ass. We leave in 10 and if you aren’t by the door I will _not_ hesitate to abandon you here.”

Both Felix and Hyunjin frowned when the music was turned down, slightly defeated they moved to go to the bathroom. Jeongin and Seungmin were fully aware of what Minho had said, but with droopy eyes they continued with their conversation. Melodic voices only the two heard. 

“Wow, they are really…” Jisung huffed, he helped Minho collect plastic cups and cans to throw out when they leave. The older looked over his shoulder to look at them. 

“It’s quite weird to see them, not fighting. Haven’t heard Innie speak like that in ages. If ever.”

“Do you think they will ever tell us it’s official?” 

“When hell freezes over” Minho scoffed. But he was quiet when he spoke, he didn’t actually want the pair to hear them. Everyone believed the two would eventually come to school holding hands and just _finally_ tell them that, _“yeah we are together now.”_

Jisung laughed, not that Minho was _that_ funny, but it was Minho. And Jisung was getting tipsy, not only did Minho seem to get prettier as time passed, but he had a weird urge to laugh at everything the older said. Whether it was appropriate or not. 

After the 10 promised minutes were over, everyone was gathered at the door. Chan was carrying everyone’s bottles in his backpack, while Minho and Jisung each carried one bag of trash in their hands. 

“And we go!” Minho locked his door, grabbed Jisung’s wrist to lead him to the front. Five minutes into the walk, their fingers eventually interlocked. Some friends held hands casually, Jisung was never used to it, but he was sure there were a lot of friends who liked to do that. 

Jiwoo was a senior too, Changbin and her were childhood friends, though they barely spoke anymore, he was somehow always an obvious invitee. She was used to him bringing at least Chan with, occasionally some other friends, but it seemed that she had forgotten he was bringing a crowd today. 

She lived on a hill, every house on this street had real gates and high fences. Far many more rooms than there were people living in there, the kitchen was always open space and sporting marble countertops. Chandeliers hanging above dinner tables and multiple rooms assigned explicitly for _lounging_. It was something Jisung had never understood, nor had he been in a house like it. But when he stepped through the door, he felt a sense of jealousy _” I want this too."_

Changbin greeted his childhood friend, before he disappeared with her, he lazily pointed around the house. “There is a bathroom over there, living room over here, hide your booze, uhh coats you can put in there.” The girl smacked his arm. _“Are you just exposing all the best hiding spots in the house?”_

Chan dragged them all along to her kitchen, where he pointed to the cabinet in which he would put his backpack. He whispered, as if the one currently hovering over the sink retching was secretly spying on them. 

“I’ll put it here, everyone has to keep track of their own shit.” Chan was usually responsible and sensible, he liked to make sure everyone was okay, to never leave anyone behind. He was just that kind of person who, as soon as he met someone, felt the need to take on some weight off their shoulders. Not that he was much different today, but Jisung was sure he would never hear Chan say _“Everyone has to keep track of their own shit”_ sober. 

Jisung was unused to these types of gatherings, if he were to put it that way. Large crowds were more often than not just suffocating, and with so many people he didn’t know he started feeling a sense of panic after just a few minutes. Especially when one friend after the other disappeared in between moving bodies. 

“Hyung, don’t leave me. I’ll kill you.” Jisung turned to Minho, the older looked down on him, cracked a small smile, and promised to not. 

The two kept on getting interrupted at some point whenever they entered a new room, it seemed Minho didn’t know quite how popular he was. The older one had never been a person who went to parties, so when people that knew him from around the school or in his class, _or almost knew him_ , and had the opportunity to meet him here, they just _had_ to greet him. 

Girls threw Jisung nasty glares, for seemingly stealing the attention away from them. It didn’t seem like they were particularly happy about the arm Minho had thrown over Jisung’s shoulder, nor did it seem like they liked that Minho stood next to him without even an inch of space between them. 

Something Minho must have picked up on, so when they entered the living room to find somewhere to sit down, there was a shadow of space, where they had initially touched. 

They found two chairs by a bar. Jiwoo had emptied it, a smart move on her behalf. Jisung felt bad for Minho, he couldn’t help but feel that the older _didn’t want to be with him._ The older ones' eyes seemed to linger on the dancefloor, if that was what you could call it. 

“You don’t...have to sit with me.” Jisung mumbled, but Minho didn’t hear him. 

Jisung saw Hyunjin and Felix and Chan on the dancefloor, between countless other teenagers, it was hard to tell whether or not they were dancing together or not. 

He looked down on his drink, made the calculated decision that he could probably drink it all without it coming back up. So he tapped Minho on the arm, pointed at Minho’s own cup, and began drinking. He drank until even the last drop had fallen on his tongue. 

Minho looked impressed, and followed suit. 

“Let’s go dance.” Jisung held out a hand for Minho to grab. He didn’t. But he _did_ stand up and nod, followed Jisung when the younger moved into the crowd. 

Jisung wasn’t sure he would be able to recall this when he woke up tomorrow, honestly. Whether it was alcohol finally going to his head, or the fact that the only source of light was a string of fairy lights above a door frame, and a lamp sitting idly in a window. The entrance to the living room was illuminated by the hall, but it didn’t help much. It was dark. Jisung felt the remnants of the sweet drink on his tongue. If he would remember anything, it was how graceful Minho looked. 

Felix bumped into them after the first song was over, and he forced Jisung to dance with him for the entire second song. 

_“Hey, why aren’t you dancing with hyung?”_ Felix asked, his eyebrows shot up. Even in the dark Jisung could spot the freckles peeking through any bb cream or concealer he had on his face. 

_“I basically am.”_ Jisung blushed red. 

_“Noo, you are dancing with me. Dance with him instead-“_

Felix said the last thing with a push. Just enough for Jisung to clash against Minho's chest, but not enough to topple him over. The line was thin, especially when it was Jisung. So when Minho felt the younger crash into him his reflexes got into action before he had time to think. Minho's arm simply _wrapped_ around Jisung. 

“You okay?” He asked, after Jisung turned around and his arms let go of the younger one. 

“Yeah. Dance with me.” Jisung nodded, and grabbed a hold of Minho's shoulder. 

“Aren’t I already?” 

“No I mean properly. Just you and me.” 

Minho didn’t react much to it, Jisung couldn’t even see if an eyebrow jerked or if his eyes widened. 

Just Jisung and Minho. The room may have been full, but it was just Jisung and Minho. 

Jisung was honestly not thinking Minho would take him seriously, didn’t think anything would happen at all. But after the first 30 seconds Minho had grabbed a hold of Jisung’s waist too, and after yet another minute, he had taken a step closer. 

It didn’t match the music very well, nor the rhythm, but Minho grabbed Jisung’s hand and spun him around. Laughed at Jisung after yet another spin. Sang the words to the song into Jisung’s ear. Maybe Jisung wasn’t the only one who was affected by the alcohol. 

Minho was a good dancer, at least Jisung thought. Of course he could have been biased just because Minho was dancing with him. 

“See it’s fun.” Jisung held Minho’s cheeks in his hands, but whispered it into his ears. Jisung felt much shorter than Minho, the older was wearing Chelsea boots, and the heel was much too high for Jisung’s liking. At least when he was only wearing converse. 

“It is.”

Minho leaned his head forward, so it hovered over Jisung’s nape. The younger could feel Minho's hot breath on his skin, his hands on his waist. Jisung let his arms rest around Minho's neck, played with his choker. 

They were friends. Friends. Nothing more. Friends could dance like this, friends could enjoy holding each other close. 

Jisung had added a layer of the gloss on his lips when they got to the party, most of it had disappeared in between bathroom visits and from drinking out of his cup. But the faint taste of it was still lingering on his lips. He wondered if Minho would be able to taste it if they kissed. 

Could friends kiss? 

“Hyung…?” 

Minho lifted his head, eyes half-lidded and out of focus. He hummed at Jisung, waiting for him to continue. 

“Come closer.” 

So he leaned forward. Moved a strand of Jisung’s hair out of his face. 

“I’m close.” Minho mumbled. 

“No, closer.” 

“If I go closer we are gonna end up kissing.” 

It left the older mouths as a snarky remark, but he still leaned in until their noses touched. Jisung almost managed to utter the words “ _then so be it”._

Almost, before Seungmin had pushed through the crowd of people dancing and disturbed the two, who pulled apart as if they were carrying a disease. 

“We are playing truth and dare, come, I wanna know some of your nasty secrets hyung.” 

Minho let himself be dragged away by Seungmin, and Jisung wasn’t one to be left alone in between strangers. So he followed suit into a room he hadn’t seen, albeit still a bit embarrassed for being interrupted. The music was muffled and the only light source was a set of neon string lights. 

Seungmin had managed to gather the eight of them together. With the addition of several other people, Jisung recognized some from his year, and others were nothing but strangers. He heard Seungmin tell everyone repeatedly to “sit, sit!”, only to lean over Jeongin and grab an empty bottle. 

The only space Jisung could find to sit down was next to Minho, whether someone had left it there unintentionally, or if Minho made space for him, he didn’t know. 

Jeongin took the liberty of spinning the bottle first, and when it landed on Hyunjin who bravely chose “dare” he pondered for a while what to give him. Suengmin shielded his mouth from the crowd and whispered something to him. 

“Seduce the…third one to your right.” 

After 40 seconds of giggles and embarrassing pick up lines Jeongin deemed it okay, both Hyunjin and the unfortunate freshman sat back down with red painted on their cheeks. With a sigh, it was Hyunjin’s turn to spin. 

Jisung wasn’t sure if it was lucky or not the flask hadn’t pointed at him even once, it was quite amusing watching everyone else embarrass themself and tell stories he himself would never reveal if they were his. Despite, if Felix or Seungmin was the one spinning and it landed on him, it really didn’t matter if he chose truth or dare - it was a disaster waiting to happen. However, sitting still made him a bit weary, and his attention was lacking a bit. 

Until he heard Chan’s voice ring; “Would you date anyone in this room?” 

The older asked Minho, Jisung hadn't even noticed that he had spun the bottle. 

Both Minho and Jisung straightened their backs, the older squinted his eyes and glanced around the room. Up and down different people, then back on Chan. There was something nasty in the glare he shot at Chan, something probably only Chan would fully understand. 

“No.” 

“You sure?”

“I’m friends with everyone here, can’t date a friend.” 

Chan huffed, mumbled out a “god you are so boring” and Minho spun the bottle. It landed on a girl opposite him, but frankly, Jisung wasn’t paying attention anymore. He had lost it somewhere in between “no” and “can’t date a friend.” He felt ridiculous. almost as embarrassed and stupid as when Minho made it clear months ago they could _only_ be friends if Jisung _didn’t like him._ Jisung had lied, he was stupid and he lied.

He ended up in a mess he was unsure he could fix. He was head over heels for the older, but Minho couldn’t be friends with him if he liked Minho, nor would the older one ever date any of his friends.

Jisung supported himself on the couch next to him when he stood up, he noticed when he was on his feet that everything he had been drinking while sitting moved up his head the second his body stood straight. 

Minho’s fingers wrapped around Jisung’s wrist, as if he was asking where Jisung was going without having to speak over everyone talking. Jisung pulled his hand away from the older one, he certainly didn’t mean for it to come off as if he was mad at Minho - but from the reaction of the older, it seemed he took it that way. 

He didn’t feel like explaining himself at all, so he took the drink someone had given him at some point and left the room, a few of the people on the floor shot him confused glances, understandable perhaps, but they all drilled into his backs like sharp arrows. 

Something was conflicting inside of him, a part of him wanted to leave the party in it’s whole, it wasn’t like he was a party person from the beginning, another one wanted him to desperately stay and get so blacked out he won’t even remember how bad he felt right now tomorrow . 

Ultimately, he chose to at least take a breath on Jiwoo’s porch. There weren’t a lot of people outside, likely because of the cold. The only things forcing people to even step outside into the freezing night air was either vomit forcing itself up their throats or the itching addiction to smoke. Or in Jisung's case, the fact that he might just disintegrate inside. 

Though his jacket kept him warm, he felt frost underneath his palms, on the porch railing. He wanted to let go, but he was afraid of falling, he was already too dizzy, too unstable. 

It was Jisung we talked about, not to mention it was winter. If he wasn’t careful, it was an accident was bound to happen. 

“Jisungie?” 

Jisung sighed, the only one who ever called him that was Minho. He glanced behind him, and the older very well stood right outside the door. Eyebrows furrowed and mouth in a frown. Minho walked up next to him, dragged his hand from his lower back up to his shoulder, massaged it lightly. 

“I’ve been looking for you for almost 10 minutes. Are you okay?” 

The hand on his shoulder burned like hot fires, Jisung used to like it, he probably still did. But one day the smoldering heat gets unbearable, and you’d rather freeze to death. 

“Mhm, I guess.” Jisung stood his ground, but Minho took a step closer. His fingers moved from one shoulder to the other, then down his side to his waist. It felt good, it felt horrible. Jisung didn’t know.

“Are you sure?” 

Jisung _wanted_ to be honest, but he couldn’t, so he let go of the railing, slipped his arms underneath Minho’s. Felt the comforting and addicting warmth. Minho did the same, one of his hands sneaked in under Jisung’s jacket, while the other stroked his hair. 

Minho loved this, but something in him hesitated. His heart was thumping in a way he had never felt it do before. He felt emotions he had never let himself feel before. Minho was falling in love, _was_ in love. 

“Look at me,” Minho mumbled, he wanted to see Jisung’s face. The big dark eyes, the full and pink cheeks, the pouty lips which formed into a heart when he smiled. Jisung complied, forced his face away from Minho’s chest. 

“Come closer.” The older said. He was sure in his words. 

“I’m already so close hyung. If I go closer we’ll end-” Jisung tried to force out of him. They were close. The tips of their noses were ghosting against each other. 

Words disappeared into a void between them. Jisung was so in love with Minho it was painful, so in love with the light brown cat eyes, the sharp cheekbones and the confidence. So in love it must have made him completely blind, because he didn’t seem to notice that the older was nearly as, if not more in love with Jisung. 

“-we’ll end up kissing.” Minho continued on with the sentence where Jisung left off. 

They kissed, to put it simply. It was over in a few seconds, that’s what Jisung thought at least. Minho’s lips were, like the rest of him, addicting. They were burning hot and hypnotizing. With the way Minho was holding him close, it was hard for Jisung to convince himself to pull himself away. 

Minho looked satisfied when they separated for air, Jisung had never really seen him blush, but he did now. A part of Jisung was still convinced Minho disliked him, or that he was playing with him. The blush was just alcohol, it wasn’t real. 

The older leaned in again, and so did Jisung, instinctively. However, before their lips dared to meet. Jisung pushed himself off of Minho. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, and Minho only smacked his lips, no words were leaving his mouth. The lack of an answer only infuriated Jisung even more. 

“Fuck you hyung.” 

Minho stepped backward, confusion grew on his face. 

“What do you mean?” Minho coaxed out. 

“You- you fucking- you tell me you can’t be friends with me if I like you. So I force myself to suffocate all these feelings for you,” 

Jisung took a step down the stairs of the porch, Minho followed him. With every step he took Minho followed suit, like there was a red string attached by their pinkies forcing Minho to follow every step. 

“And it would have been okay, but you- you touch me and you whisper things into my ears you wouldn’t whisper to your other friends. You won’t let me...let go of you. Then you have the nerve- to play with my emotions when you _know_ I like you. You have the nerve to say when you are sitting next to me that you would never date any of your friends- only to follow me out and _kiss_ me! It hurts.” Jisung blinked tears away. 

“Jisung.” Minho reached for the younger, but he pulled his hand away long before Minho could grab it. 

“Fuck. You. Tell Felix I’m going home, then you can go kiss someone you actually like.” 

Jisung turned on his heel, stomped away on slippery ice with his converse. Hands clenched until the knuckles were white. 

He wasn’t careful, and when it came to Jisung, the accident was just bound to happen. 

The two parted, there were things unsaid that would just disappear into the void for no one to hear, secrets and confession that never left their lungs. Emotions they couldn’t explain. A crack that had grown on Jisung’s heart finally split it in half.

Minho left soon after Jisung, he had found Felix and just told him Jisung was on his way home, then he grabbed his jacket and stormed out.

Jisung walked the entire way home crying, everything in between quiet sobbing and loud wails. It must have taken nearly an hour, and when he unlocked the door his cheeks were rosy and cold, his eyes were bloodshot. 

Maybe his mother was already awake, or she woke up in the commotion of Jisung coming home. In weary steps she came out of their bedroom and looked at him through squinting eyes. 

“Jisung?” 

He threw himself into her arms, something he hadn’t done since he was a kid and needed comforting after scraping his knees on the playground. Jisung had broken the promise between them from just a few hours ago, before he left. 

“I wasn’t careful at all mom. I fucked up.” 

Jisung wasn't careful, broke his own heart.

An accident that was bound to happen.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ,,,do I regret this. yes yes perhaps. did this hurt to write,,,yes yes it did. for everyone who might feel ~hate~ for minho rn b patient I promise,,,it’s happy ending,,,jos let me make them suffer a bit first. minho is just a lil bit dumb rn! 
> 
> also not @ me saying in the notes of the last chapter that this chapter would either b 2k or 7k,,,and this ended up at like 6k,,,don’t be sad when the next chapter ends up with like 1k lol. 
> 
> okay thank you for reading, kudos and comments always appreciated <33 ilyall
> 
> stay safe until next update!


	9. Lead Me In Your Direction

Jisung didn’t show up to school on Monday. He never expected his mother to let him stay home, she really never has. But when Jisung tiptoed into the kitchen in the morning, hid behind the door opening, and asked his mother in a pitiful voice if “I can stay home?” something in her seemed to be genuinely empathic. She didn’t ask a question, nor did she force Jisung into explaining why. 

“Go back to bed.” She said, took another sip of her coffee. Jisung heard her when she called the school administration and reported him absent. Heard her lie and tell them he was sick. 

He turned around in bed, slept until lunch, and then for another hour after eating. He asked Felix for notes to class, and ignored him when the best friend asked where he was. 

Minho hadn’t said a word to anyone. When Hyunjin asked during lunch where Jisung was; he shrugged and mumbled “how am I supposed to know?”. He didn’t know, to be fair. Hadn’t even said as much as a word to Jisung since Saturday evening, when he marched away from the party. Minho wasn’t sure if he hoped Jisung was here today, or not. 

It was conflicting, he _wanted_ to talk to Jisung. Wanted to cry out excuses and explain himself, apologize. Hold his hands-

“You okay?” Changbin bumped into his side. 

“Yeah. I’m cool.” _“I mean I’m sweating and my head is throbbing and everything feels like it’s falling apart. But I’m fine.”_

Jisung hadn’t said anything, so it seemed. Neither had Minho. He wondered if that meant they had to pretend everything was like normal. Like they were still... _friends._

Jisung wasn’t here today, but he couldn’t be gone for the rest of the week. 

“I’m going to school today.” Jisung said, though his mother definitely did her best trying to be nice, he knew she wanted him back in school. She was maybe just afraid he’d fall behind if he missed just one more day. He considered himself lucky to have gotten two days off.

His mother asked him to be careful, but he didn’t promise when he left. Not again. 

Minho had caught a glance of Jisung in the morning, the younger was by his locker with his friends. They all smiled and laughed, Jisung looked- to be frank, pretty normal. So normal it was scary. Minho had to take a moment for himself and figure out if the party _actually happened._ Had to figure if they _actually kissed..._

“Chan I need to talk to you.” Minho mumbled, his knuckles were clenched and his eyes were focused on the floor. 

“Okay.”

“Can- can we eat lunch somewhere else today?” 

Chan looked surprised, but Minho’s cheeks were flushed red and his forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat.

“Are you okay?” 

Chan picked up his utensils and stirred his food. Minho hadn’t even taken his out of his backpack. The two booked a study room next to the library. 

“No. I messed up. Like bad,” He took a deep breath. 

“I might have kissed Jisung.” It was like it didn’t happen until Minho finally spilled the secret. 

“And that was not...good?”

“He got really mad because, he just doesn’t think I like him. He said I was toying with him.”

“But you do? Like him I mean.” Chan asked, swallowed his food. He couldn’t recall Minho having ever shown much interest in anyone. Anyone but Jisung so to say. 

“Yeah of course I fucking do!” Minho threw his arms in the air, like he was mad. Chan’s eyebrows shot up, wondered by himself _who_ Minho was angry at. He continued.

“I wouldn’t kiss him if I didn’t, isn’t that obvious?” 

_“Is it not obvious I like him?”_

Chan crossed his legs underneath the chair, cracked his knuckles. 

“Listen. It’s quite obvious he’s _deeply_ in love with you. We know it, he knows it, _you_ know it. So- you like him, and you know he likes you, and you decide to go in for a kiss- I assume you were drunk? Right?” 

Minho nodded, and Chan continued in between chewing. 

“Yeah, and he’s unsure if you like him, because you are a flirty guy, you are, _even if you don’t know it_ , extremely popular among both guys and girls. People swoon over you. You could get anyone. Besides, you told me _yourself_ , that you told _him_ you couldn’t be friends if he liked you. Why would he suddenly think you liked him? Because you kissed him, when you were _drunk?_ Man, I would have almost thought you were playing with him if I didn’t know you liked him.” 

Minho sighed, covered his face with his hand and wanted to scream. When he looked up again, he caught his reflection in the window behind Chan. 

“You haven’t realized until now you’re an asshole? Thought you were smart.” 

His breath hitched. Evaded his eyes away from it, like it would ever stop it from talking to him. It never did, but sometimes he could suffocate it down to a whisper. The library was too quiet, not even Chan’s disgustingly loud chews or the AC that was buzzing could drown out the reflection speaking to Minho with a smug grin. 

The worst part was, today Minho couldn’t even deny what it said. 

“Well grades can lie, you might have an A on paper, but you are pretty fucking stupid. Not to mention a douchebag and a heartbreaker. One would have thought you should have learned by now how to handle love, you are 18 aren’t you?” 

His hands were sweating, his head was throbbing with pain. His stomach was heavy with guilt, everything felt like it was falling apart. Because his reflection was right, Chan was right, Jisung was right. Minho was a fucking asshole. 

When Minho came skipping down the stairs after his last class was over, he passed Jisung’s locker. He used to detour past it, to tie the shoelaces the younger one never tied himself, or to beg Jisung to follow him home. _“My aunt isn’t home, come one, I don’t feel like being alone.”_

Jisung was, once again, surrounded by his three friends. But when Minho passed them he wasn’t ignored like he was this morning. All four of them turned an eye his way. It couldn’t be described in any way other than judging and bitter. 

Minho had told Chan, Jisung had told his friends. 

His aunt wasn’t home when Minho stepped through the door. He wasn’t sure if he was thankful or not. He scrambled out of his shoes, paced around the kitchen and living room, as if walking a path into the floor would destress him.

_“I should just call him.”_

Minho wandered into his room, closed the door carefully, even if no one but him was home. It was easy, just press Jisung’s name, he’s probably the first name under “recent calls”, anyway, Minho never really talked to anyone but Jisung and his aunt. 

The phone rang 4 times before Jisung picked up, but the line was still silent. The younger didn’t speak, and Minho’s throat ran dry. 

“Jisung.” He only coughed out. 

It was still silent, Minho only picked up on the low cracks of static and heavy breathing. 

“We should really talk. I can’t do it over the phone, I want to see you in person.” Minho murmured, he grabbed his desk to get some sort of stability. 

“What if I can’t get myself to see you?” Jisung breathed it out in a whisper. 

“Jisungie I know…I.” Everything Minho had thought of practically disappeared into nothingness. 

The younger one sniffed, Minho could almost see him dry tears off his face. 

“I can’t talk right now- I’m sure...sure we will find a time. But not, not, right now.” 

Minho listened as the line went silent, listened as it was followed by repeating beeps. The sky outside was grey and dark, thick clouds probably about to spew out snow in masses. Minho stared at his empty home screen, caught his own reflection. 

It was almost as if he was scared of it. He nearly dropped his phone on the floor, but managed to put it down on his desk with shaky fingers. He closed the blinds that hung on the window by his bed, terrified to accidentally lock eyes with himself. 

He dragged his fingertips along the wall, he felt small bumps and imperfections in the paint, the blue paint he and his aunt had spent 3 days painting. Minho reached the window by his desk, the curtains were thick and velvet, he had begged his aunt to let him buy them for him when he was 13. She complied, but told him that the room would just get dark and depressing. 

In hindsight, he didn’t like them very much. His room turned too dark, too depressing.

Minho stood with one hand, one on each side of the window, gripping the curtains so tight he was about to drag them down on the floor.

When he saw the reflection open his mouth, there was something malicious in his eyes. In the reflection of Minho’s eyes. He was fearing it, feared what would come out of his mouth. 

“Fuck you.” Minho gritted through his tears, closed the curtains with a swift motion. 

It was faint, but he heard the voice whisper even behind closed curtains and through the phone screen facing down on the desk. He ran to the bathroom and covered the mirror with a towel, it was too loud. Accusations and guilt, mistakes that Minho couldn’t believe he made. But he did, so he drowned in panic, felt the sweat roll down his forehead and his breath speed up. 

The house turned dark. Because in the dark Minho couldn’t see his reflection, and when he couldn’t see it, it quieted down, a little bit at least. He fell down on his bed, the sheets were soft and cold. Minho remembered when he laid here with Jisung, sometimes they held hands, sometimes they hugged. Jisung always wore his heart on his sleeve, but Minho hid his where Jisung couldn’t see it. 

For some fucking reason. 

“You seem miserable.” It said, almost too softly, as if it wasn’t about to tear him into pieces. 

“I mean you are, I know, because I’m you.”

“Is it really fair? I’m sure Jisung is lying in his bed crying too, but that’s because you broke his heart. You knew you would, so why are you crying?” 

“It’s miserable, pathetic, you are-”

A thought interrupted by a door, a face peeked in. Minho hurried to sit up in his bed, dry his face off of any tears. He noticed his aunt had turned on the lights in the house, she liked it better that way. Her hands were idly fiddling with the grey towel he covered the bathroom mirror with. 

She coughed, reached for the light switch. 

“Don’t turn it on please,” Minho’s voice cracked, he couldn’t quite see her, but he was sure she grimaced. Her hand flinched, raised it to her chest again. 

“Honey? Are you alright?” 

Minho covered his face with his arms again, sighed, didn’t even know what to say. So he laid down again, turned to his side, and faced away from his aunt. Didn’t know if he wanted her to be here or not.

The mattress dipped when she sat down by the edge, he couldn’t face her. She stroked his shoulder, her hands were warm. Minho let out a sob, but his eyes were near dry. 

“I’m not.” He finally answered her after minutes in silence. 

“What’s going on?” 

“I messed up.” 

He wondered how many times he could repeat it in one day. That he messed up. 

“I’m in love with Jisung but I messed up.” 

_“Say it again Minho, you messed up. Again, you messed up.”_

God it was so loud. 

She “oh-ed”, stopped in her tracks like her brain needed a moment to process it. When she was silent, Minho took it as an opportunity to continue even if he heard she had a word on the tip of her tongue. 

“I like him so much, but I’m so scared, I’ve spent half my life convincing myself I’ll never love anyone, I don’t understand it.” He clenched his fists. “And what if I tell him and he just leaves me?” 

“Would Jisung leave you?” 

“I mean no- but what if he does, it’s understandable. I’m a piece of shit, I’m unlovable-” 

Minho felt fingers dig into his shoulder, his aunt turned him so she could look at his face. He almost thought she was _angry._

“Don’t you dare say that.” She snapped at him. But Minho didn’t know what he said.

“Don’t you dare say you are unlovable in my home, why would you say that?” 

“A lot of people don’t.” 

Her hand stroked his cheek. 

“Who?” 

“Mom and da-” 

“You can’t let people like them dictate your life honey. They are part of the vast minority of assholes on this godforsaken earth. I raised you, I love you, I know you. You aren’t one of them, you are nothing like them. You are neither unlovable nor a piece of- You aren’t. People make mistakes, some bigger than others. The mistakes don’t define you. It’s whether or not you decide to fix them.” 

His forehead met her chest, he wrapped his arms around her. Hugged her tight. His aunt was skinny and frail, he often worried she wasn’t eating well enough, or was stressing too much. Now he was afraid he would suffocate her with a hug. 

But she hugged him back, almost as much as him. It reminded him of when he was young, she hugged him like this when he cut his finger on a piece of paper, or when his fingers lost their grip around the string to his balloon and he let it rise to the sky. 

“I love you too.” 

It was silent, completely silent. Just their breathing. 

“Hey, how about I go order food at that restaurant a few blocks away. The one with the Japanese noodles you liked?” 

Minho nodded, she let go of him. Placed a kiss on his forehead and smiled. Before she left the room; Minho cleared his throat. 

“Can you turn on the lights? I’m tired of the dark.” 

She nodded, flipped the switch, the room filled with the yellow luminous light. He couldn’t quite hear the reflection. Not over the mindless humming of his aunt while she dressed once again to go out, not over the few comforting words that repeated inside Minho. 

A long time ago, Minho found a book in his aunt’s room. It was labeled with his mother’s name, curiosity had gotten the far best of him, so he opened the diary. She must have been bad at keeping up with it, there were dates scribbled up page after page, but it was often a long gap in between them. He found the dates for his parent's wedding, even the day they found out they were pregnant with him. 

Eventually the weekly or monthly updates stopped. Most pages towards the end were completely empty. The diary was just inconsistent entries, faded post it notes with reminders of doctors appointments, incoherent nonsense. Quotes and poems she must have taken a liking to through the years. 

What Minho remembered most was though, the fact that she never really loved anyone. Not even herself. 

“I must be broken.” She had written on one page. 

_“Some nights I wake_

_and everything hurts_

_a little. It is_

_amazing how long_

_a ruined thing_

_will burn.”_

Whatever the ruined thing was, Minho wondered if it still burned within his mother. If she was still married to his father even if she hated him, or missed the child she never wanted. If she still loved nothing about this world, or believed she was broken. 

Minho was rightfully terrified of love he believed. But he never wanted to become like his mother, miserable and trapped in a loveless life. Minho never wanted to feel like he was broken. 

If Jisung was the first step in discovering love, Minho wanted to go that way. Even if he shook with fear, if he could just _be honest_ maybe he could let himself be in love. 

His aunt kissed him on the crown of his head, his eyes were still red but it felt better. Even when he saw his face in the reflection of the metal spoon in his hand, it wasn’t as loud. He hugged her tighter than he ever had before going to bed, and she repeated “I love you” more times than what she ever had. 

It didn’t feel as empty, his heart wasn’t as hollow tonight. 

18 years of age, and he had just begun to understand what the meaning of love was. Maybe he was finally going in the right direction. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we r almost at the end, the final chapter/epilogue is basically done I jos need to write like a final paragraph and read through it before its postable. I have a busy day ahead, but it will be up in a few hours, or tomorrow at the latest aha ha. the "some nights I wake and everything hurts (...)" is a poem by Paul Guest, you can read it [ here! ](https://poets.org/poem/1987)
> 
> thank you for reading this, and I hope you are excited for the last chapter!!  
> kudos and comments always appreciated <3


	10. I Caught You

The table that was once filled with eight students fighting for a comfortable spot had been left alone for nearly a week now. They were separated into the two groups that were all they once knew. 

It was empty, everyone felt it, threw longing glances over the cafeteria to smile at each other, and nodded awkwardly. They were still friends, one couldn’t deny it, but the tension was thick. Mostly between Jisung and Minho, of course. Who used to be close friends who held hands and hugged, close friends- who were always a bit more than friends. 

Minho noticed, much to his own selfish distraught- it wasn’t just he and Jisung that was hurting. No, he saw Jeongin locking eyes with Seungmin every two minutes, both looked low in spirit. It was like that until Seungmin came up to him when school was over and pinched his cheeks, teased him like they hadn’t met in weeks. Chan greeted Felix and Hyunjin in the hallway and Minho saw his best friend glance behind them as they walked, like he was afraid the two juniors would cease to exist. When Changbin showed them that his favorite artist just released a new album he accidentally slipped up and grunted “I bet Jisung would love it at least” when they didn’t show enough interest in him. 

It hurt to know that he caused this. 

“Um guys.” 

The three friends looked up at him.

“I’ll talk to Jisung. This weekend, I promise. If it doesn’t go well- you don’t have to sit with me all the time, not when I fucked up this bad. You can go to them if you want.” They all fell silent, Minho didn't like it at all- he made up so many scenarios in the few seconds that passed in silence he could feel his body run cold. 

“We would never leave you Minho, if you think that.” Jeongin said after swallowing his food, smile a little crooked. Somehow it felt too sincere listening to especially him say it. Minho was too used to the younger's ruthless jokes, his teasing. He looked around the table, and both Changbin and Chan followed the younger one with sympathetic smiles. He nodded like he understood, and glanced over the cafeteria at the other table. Let himself catch a glimpse of Jisung. 

Minho promised he’d talk to Jisung. He just hadn’t figured out how, or when really. He really wanted to talk in person- couldn’t take it over the phone, to be honest with himself. Jisung’s sniffles still echoed in his ears from when he talked to Jisung the prior week. 

His aunt suggested not to be too dramatic, but more lowkey. Told him Jisung might get overwhelmed if Minho just came out of nowhere with the confession like an explosion. But Minho also wanted Jisung to _know,_ really know that Minho liked him. So much he’d carve his name into the moon so big everyone could see it. He was tired of covering up the heart on his sleeve. 

_"I'll just go over there, and I'll ask if he wants to talk to me."_ Minho told his aunt before she left for work Saturday at noon. _"I'm sure it will go well honey."_ She responded, stroked his hair and smiled. Promised to be close to the phone if something happened. 

Winter had finally come, much too late for most people's liking, with just a handful of weeks left until Christmas. Minho wasn’t himself a big fan of it, he preferred spring or autumn much better. Now he almost felt thankful for it; the rosy cheeks could be blamed on the freezing cold and not on the turmoil of emotions inside him. When he jumped off the bus a few blocks away from Jisung’s house, walking the path that was all too familiar to him, his breath got heavier. Clouds of smoke left his mouth, his shoulders tensed up when the faded pink house came just around the corner. 

He dialed the number to Jisung’s phone, stood on the street opposite of his house. 

When the younger eventually answered, Minho’s voice cracked. 

“Hi,” Minho murmured. Jisung remained quiet on the other side of the line. 

“Are you home?” Minho asked. 

“Yes. Why?” 

“Do you mind- mind coming out?” 

The line was silent, Minho saw how Jisung pulled the curtain in his room aside and looked out. It was hard to see his expression clearly, but Minho could imagine it being everything between confused and surprised. Minho's heart dropped when Jisung hung up and covered the window with the curtains again. 

_“Oh.”_

What was he supposed to do now?

It was a bit of a shock, was it too much to come all the way here? The echoing sound of the call cutting was deafening. His feet had already frozen to the ground, his arms fell to his sides, his fingers were turning stiff and numb in the cold. It felt embarrassing to stand here, staring at the pink house in which Jisung lived, the pink house Minho now assumed he would never see again, but he _couldn’t_ move, couldn't get his legs to even walk one step. He stared down at the slightly dirty boots. 

A door creaked in the distance, Minho could hear his own neck crack when he whipped his head up to look. It was Jisung, clad in his thick faux fur jacket, the giant black shoes, they easily added an inch or two to his height.

Jisung crossed the street, stopped a few steps away from Minho. 

“Hi.” Minho coughed, “Do you wanna- go for a walk?” 

Jisung nodded and seemed to take a deep breath. 

Before any of them moved, Minho kneeled down in front of the younger. He tied Jisung’s shoelaces into double knots. If he didn’t feel so weird he would have made Jisung promise to be careful. 

The younger took the clear lead, it was probably for the best. Minho wasn’t all that familiar with Jisung’s neighborhood. The two were silent, Minho knew he was the one who was supposed to talk, he was the one to apologize. 

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled, hissed when the cold wind hit his face. 

“I really am. I didn’t know that I would hurt you, and that’s my fault. Really,” 

“It’s okay.” Jisung cracked a halfhearted smile. Minho wasn't sure it was genuine or not, to be honest. 

“It’s not. I thought it was _obvious_ I liked you that’s why I just went for it, but- yeah. It wasn’t. I understand if you don't like me anymore- hell if you hate me, I just really want to apologize, and I hope you can forgive me." 

Jisung stopped in his steps. Glanced over at the older one. Minho stopped too; wondered what Jisung was thinking of.

When Jisung began walking again, he slid on the ice frozen on the sidewalk. It was a bit too Jisung-esque to do so. If the situation wasn't as serious as Minho thought of it to be he would have laughed when panic quickly flashed over the younger one's face. 

The patch of ice wasn't enough to make tumble over, but definitely enough for him to grab onto the closest thing for any sort of stability. Which was Minho of course. 

Minho almost thought Jisung would recoil back, away from him. But his small hands continued to grip tight around Minho’s upper arm. His lips may have been pressed into a firm line, and he was still quiet; but he held onto Minho, his fingers managed to dig into Minho's skin, even through the padded jacket. Minho laid his hand over Jisung's. 

“I’m gonna be honest,” Jisung began. 

“I think I like you so much I wouldn’t be able to _not_ forgive you.” His voice was soft. Minho closed his eyes when he heard it, liked it too much. 

The older smiled at the sky, even the winter sun felt warm when he was with Jisung. 

They continued in silence, walked past a park, Jisung mumbled mostly to himself; but Minho heard him well.

_“I used to play here when I was a kid.”_

He steered them into the park, Minho followed him without a word. They stopped by the swings and Jisung brushed all the snow off them. 

Jisung sat down, pushed himself back and forth. Minho was confused, he tried to understand what was on Jisung’s mind. 

“I*ll forgive you, but I have one condition.” The younger began, repositioning the black beanie on his head.

“What?” 

“Tell me you are sorry again.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Tell me I’m a good kisser.” 

“You _are_ a good kisser.” 

Jisung smiled. Heart-shaped and endearing, then he pressed his mouth into a firm like again. Serious all of a sudden. 

“Be honest. You are only allowed to say this next thing if you tell the truth, if you really mean it.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’ll forgive you if- if you tell me you like me.”

Minho grabbed the chains on the swing, the metal was deathly cold against his palms. But at least it stopped Jisung mindlessly rocking back and forth. If Jisung was serious, Minho might as well be. He needed a second to make sure he didn’t fuck up again. 

His one hand trailed after Jisung’s, looking for a source of warmth. A source of comfort. 

One hand interlocked with Jisung’s, the other was dragging his fingers over Jisung's cheek. They were crimson and hot, as pudgy as they were when they met for the first time. His eyes were still dark, now they were bigger than usual; looking up at Minho. 

“Jisungie, I really, really, like you. So much I think I’m going crazy.” 

Minho tried to look serious- he was, but he couldn’t help but crack a smile when the corners of Jisung’s mouth jerked upwards. 

“Come closer.” Jisung whispered. 

There was no other option but to comply, not when Jisung looked so sweet. Not when the words were so soft-spoken. 

Minho leaned in, so did Jisung. 

They kissed, it was over in a second, that’s what it felt like at least. Jisung rose from the swing, wrapped his arms around Minho’s neck. With the shoes he was wearing he barely even had to tiptoe. 

Minho’s lips were like the rest of him, hot and addicting. But this time it didn’t feel as bad when Jisung got to kiss him. This time it was almost magical. At least Jisung liked to imagine that he was in the middle of some dramatic romance movie. Fireworks blasting in the sky right on cue with the ending song, like the credits were about to roll.

“Hey.” Minho whispered, kissed a line from Jisung’s lips to his ears. He kept the younger one close. Felt Jisung's heartbeat through his chest. 

“I like you, I really do. Like like you. But we have to take this slow, I’ve never done this before, I obviously don’t know shit about love.” 

“It’s okay, we can take it slow. I don't know much about it either” 

“Do you wanna go on a date with me then?” 

Jisung smiled, laughed like Minho was stupid. But he nodded. 

“I’d love to go on a date with you.” 

Jisung loved the warmth of Minho, his fingers digging into the skin on his waist, his arms hugging his shoulders. The warmth was addicting, but it was okay. He never liked the cold anyway. 

* * *

It was just a week. Jisung had to follow his family to his grandparents during spring break. _The whole break._ Minho argued that it wouldn’t be that bad, that they could spend time with each other after he came home. 

“I’ll wait for you, don’t worry.” Minho promised the night before Jisung left. 

“But what if I die without you?” The younger wailed dramatically in his arms.

Well turns out he didn’t, he _somehow_ survived the entire week, frankly it was the most time they have spent apart since the middle of winter. Jisung was out of his house as soon as they had pulled into the driveway and Jisung had dumped his bag in his room. 

He didn’t even bother to tie his shoelaces, even if he knew it was stupid. If he made it to Minho alive, he was sure he would tie them for him anyway. 

The older one was waiting for Jisung by the bus stop. He was excited to see him again, got there too early; had to stand awkwardly for two busses to pass _without_ a Jisung on them. 

When the third bus rolled around the corner, Minho could spot Jisung immediately, waving through the window, a big smile on his lips. Minho could even see the dark eyes glimmering. The younger one pushed himself past multiple passengers when the bus came to a stop, many of whom threw him angry glares. Jisung didn't seem to care of course, only had eyes on someone else. 

He was the first one off the bus. Running in Minho’s direction. 

Jisung threw himself into Minho's arms. Let out a weak “Catch me” while in the air. 

Jisung was lucky Minho's arms encircled his waist with ease, lucky Minho never had a problem carrying him. So when the younger came running towards him, Minho opened his arms and let Jisung throw himself at him. After they had hugged for a while, Minho set the younger down on the ground again, carefully, as if he was afraid he’d break. 

They locked eyes, placed a delicate kiss on each other cheeks before sharing one on the lips. Minho smiled at Jisung like there was nothing else to look at. "Don't worry-" 

“I caught you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and it has come to an end. 
> 
> the fact that I managed to finish up a 30k au in more or less a month is impressive even 2 me lol. I really liked this one, might actually be my one of favorite pieces of writing so far! (but tbh there is a few things I would have chosen to change some things in retrospect) ahhh ok i feel so awkward writing this wtf lol i dont know how to properly say goodbye to this hahahahahah OKAY
> 
> I hope this ending wasn't far from your expectations, and that you feel satisfied; ive had the "Catch Me" "I Caught You" thing in my head since almost the begging, and I don't hate how I managed to end it like this either. all constructive criticism is of course welcomed if you happen to have any! 
> 
> thank you for the people who have been following this since chap 1, of course thank you v much too if you are reading this now that it's officially over. I rlly hope you liked this, if you do; kudos and comments always make me really happy <333
> 
> stay safe until next time! 
> 
> (say hi to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hopeonmydick) if you want to)


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